


The Dirt Still Stains

by kirasha, Titti



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discovering that his best friend is alive is only the beginning of an arduous road.  Steve and Bucky have to deal with Bucky's past before they can work toward a future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dirt Still Stains

**Author's Note:**

> The story was inspired by a prompt from midnitemaraud_r
> 
> Accompanying art by Siehn can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1030859)

They thought, once they sent the tesseract back to Asgard with Thor, things would go back to normal, but they should have known better. The Asgardians can't seem to keep their hands on that cube and it always makes its way back to earth for some strange reason. Steve doesn't understand the reason why, but he knows that the tesseract likes to make his life miserable, or at least it feels that way. 

The latest one brought another invasion, headaches (of the literal and metaphorical kind) and Bucky. All in all, Steve can't complain about this turn of events because alien invasions are becoming a normal event, but having his best friend back is out of this world. 

He could do without the headaches, though. The headaches that aren't really headaches, but some residual energy from the cube that lets him see Bucky's life. Every new headache brings up another memory he never lived through and it makes him want to wrap Bucky up and make sure no one will ever hurt him again. Except, he can't do that either because he has no right. Bucky is a grown man, a soldier.

Instead, he slips inside Bucky's room most nights and stares.

Bucky's body is covered in an array of scars that intersect with almost artistic beauty. The metal of his arm glints in the moonlight that filters through the cheap mini blind on the window. Some people might see all of that and declare it ugly, but Steve sees what people don't. He sees the way Bucky looks so much younger when he's asleep, with the faintest trace of a smile on his face. He sees hard muscles that are the result of training and hard work. He also sees things he probably shouldn't see. 

Bucky never liked sheets and blankets. He doesn't like them now and the sheets are pooled at his feet while he sprawls in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs that leave little to the imagination. 

He's an artist, Steve tells himself. He's simply appreciating beauty and Bucky is as beautiful as a Greek statue. He's certainly not comparing his best friend to those posters of David Beckham wearing only underwear spread all over Herald Square. But, if Steve were into comparisons, Bucky would win hands down.

"You know you're creepy."

Steve jumps at the voice, and darn if Bucky didn't catch him unaware. He'd be dead if this were a battle, but Steve wouldn't be thinking about underwear in a battle. Tony might, but then Tony can have the strangest thoughts at the strangest moments.

"You're still being creepy," Bucky says in a groggy voice.

Steve stops thinking about Tony because he knows that's just a way to avoid the conversation at hand. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"You do that often." Bucky turns to his side and pulls the sheet up to his waist. "I'm not going to kill you in your sleep."

"I never thought you would," Steve replies and he sounds as certain as he always does. "I have nightmares," he adds.

Bucky stares for a moment, then nods. It's not the first time. It happened when they were kids, when they had no one but each other. On those nights, they would climb in the same bed and push the fears away, but now they are older and Bucky doesn't offer. 

"They are your nightmares," Steve adds when he doesn't get a reply. "I can see your life. Some residual energy for the latest cube. Tony says it'll go away." He moves closer, hesitates and then sits on the edge of the bed. "I want to help."

Bucky smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. "You always do, but you can't, not this time. It's over, it's in the past, and we can't do anything about it."

Steve reaches over. Back in the 1940s, men hugged each other when something tragic happened. Unfortunately, tragic events were rather common with the war. No one ever talked of bromances or all the other things they seem to talk about today. Steve knows about bromances because … well because of Tony. He really is the one trying to teach him about modern life, whether Steve likes it or not. So he knows that two men, in underwear, touching hands could be seen as … unusual in both eras, but it's the most natural gesture in the world.

Steve and Bucky.

Bucky and Steve.

"I don't need your pity, either," Bucky says, cutting through the silence again.

Steve is taken aback. "Do you really think this is pity? Did you ever pity me?" he asks, partly curious, but mostly to make a point because he knows his Bucky, and he knows it was never pity dictating Bucky's action.

The smile is a little more real this time. "Of course not. You'd have kicked my butt if I did."

"And then you'd have pounded me into the ground," Steve answers with a chuckle. "Except you wouldn't have and neither would I because it's never been about pity. It's not fear either. It's friendship, Bucky. You're my best friend. Seventy years later and it's still us against the world."

"I'm not sure I want to join your little group of superheroes. I don't know if I'm ready." The truth is thrown out there casually, but it's still not an easy thing to admit.

Steve shakes his head. "I wasn't talking about that kind of fight. Evil men, evil aliens will come and go. There's always going to be someone else that wants to take over the world and there will always be people to fight them, but that's not the fight I meant. We're in a new decade, a new century, and we need to learn how to live all over again. Life is the biggest fight."

"And you want to do it with me?" The question is riddled with guarded uncertainty. "You've read my file."

"I've read the file of the Winter Soldier. It wasn't you, Bucky, and I knew that before I read the file because I don't need S.H.I.E.L.D. reports to tell me who you are." Steve reaches for his friend, hand almost connecting with his shoulder, but he doesn't want to touch metal, not tonight. He pats Bucky's cheek instead, smiling. "I want you by my side."

"It's weird, isn't it? Fury says they'll need to put in an upgrade. This technology is deteriorating, something about top of the line fifty years ago." The little shrug is meant to make it seen it irrelevant, but everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. knows the deterioration could lead to death.

Steve knows that too, just like he knows Fury has already arranged for a new arm. Bucky knows too, which means he brought it up to change the subject because he's noticed Steve's hesitation. It's not a surprise. The man is a soldier, a trained assassin. He needs to be observant to stay alive, but noticing something doesn't give you the full story and only the truth will end this divide between them, except Steve isn't sure he knows the truth. It's all confusing in his head. "It's not weird. It's-." He tries to find the right words. Words are always easier on a battlefield, but Steve has never been really good when it comes to relationships of any kind. It's even worse when he doesn't understand what's happening inside his own head.

Letting go, he lies down. He puts his arms behind his head, while he stares at the ceiling. He tries to straighten out his thoughts, but he gives up pretty soon. Instead he turns his head and stares into those deep blue eyes that are as familiar as his own, but hold shadows that Steve has yet to learn. "When I look at the arm, I see what they've done to you."

Bucky shakes his head violently. They've had this discussion before. They will have it again and again until Steve can change Bucky's mind, but he still lets Bucky say his peace. "What they've done to me? Are you crazy, Steve? I'm the one who did those things. I'm the one who killed all of these people."

"No, you aren't." The answer is still the same, but this time Steve doesn't let it go. "Do you know why I know? Not because of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Fury, but because I know who you really are." He turns around and presses a hand against Bucky's heart. "I know what's in here and they might have messed with your mind, but they can't change what's in your heart. If anyone is guilty here, it's me. I should have come back; I should have looked for you, but I never did."

"When were you supposed to do that, Steve? You were a little busy saving the world," Bucky says with a smile.

"I guess I was, but that's what it is." This time, he runs his hand over the cold metal, not stopping until his fingertips brush against Bucky's neck. "It's not pity and it's not weird. It's guilt for not being there for my best friend when he's always been around for me."

Bucky laughs. "You _are_ crazy."

"That's not the first time I've been called that," Steve answers, chuckling.

"I bet it's the first time since becoming Captain America." Bucky sighs this time. "It's not your fault, Steve. There was nothing you could do, nothing anyone could do."

Steve stares for a moment and nods. "Exactly! Nothing anyone could do, not even you."

"Anyone else. I could have done something. I could have stopped."

"You did." Steve has never questioned why Bucky stopped when he did. He has never wanted to look too closely at what it might mean, but it's easy to ask in the dark, when it's just them, in a small apartment in Brooklyn. It's almost like they are back in the 40s and life was pretty simple. "Why did you?"

Bucky swallows and stares silently at Steve for a moment. "I woke up," he says at last. He remembered who he was and was horrified at who he had become. "I don't know how to explain it better than that. I woke up and I knew what I'd done, what I was doing..."

Rolling onto his back, he closes his eyes. "Go to sleep, punk. You can play creepy guard dog some more tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Watching doesn't stop when the sun goes up. It assumes a different shade. He can't walking into a room unnoticed, but instead Steve talks to the doctors who probably would protect patient's confidentiality if they weren't working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and he talks to Fury, who says and doesn't say. It still amounts to a lot of questions and worries, which prompts Steve to do the unthinkable: he goes to Tony. He doesn't just approach the other man, but goes to his penthouse to have a private discussion.

"You want me to do what?" Tony asks with a smirk. "I didn't catch it."

Steve knows that Tony heard perfectly. What he's asking goes against everything he believes in, he knows it's wrong, but this is Bucky's life and Steve has failed him once. He won't do it again. "I need you to get into the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers, or however it works, and tell me if Bucky really needs this new arm."

"You could just ask Fury." 

Tony is a bastard, Steve knows that. He also knows that Tony is trying to make him lose his calm, which it's why he grinds his teeth and counts until ten. "I have. He says that without it, Bucky would die."

"But that could be an excuse to get him to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said, getting up from the couch and going to the bar. He's still smirking as he pours liquor from a crystal decanter in two glasses and offers one to Steve.

Steve can't get drunk and he doesn't really like the taste of most liquor, but he's learned to drink during the war, and behind that smirk, he sees that Tony is thinking, which is why he takes the glass with a thank you.

"You know that regardless of the arm, they won't let him walk out into the sunset," Tony says, after he takes a sip of what turns out to be whiskey. He has that far away look that means that he's planning and plotting while you're still trying to figure out what he means.

"That had occurred to me," Steve says because he's not stupid. He might not understand all the technology that exist in this era, but he knows strategy and long term planning. He still feels that he's missing something from the way Tony is looking at him.

"Has it occurred to you that Fury might expect you to come to me? Or that he might expect me to do what you're asking me to do?" Tony asked carelessly, like they are talking about the weather.

That's when it dawns on Steve. "You think they would have faked the files in their computers."

Tony rolls his eyes. "You don't fake files. Nevermind the technical terms, but yes, there's no guarantee that what we find is the truth. They could have his real medical records under anything. We can't look at every file. As much as I'd love to, it'd take too long and they'd notice."

Steve knows that tone of voice, too. It's the tone of voice that forecasts some major violation from Tony, usually resulting in breaking a few hundred laws or causing millions of dollars of damage, sometimes both. "You have a plan."

Tony shrugs. "Maybe. I mean you can trust Fury. He's such a warm and caring man. I don't-"

"Enough." Steve pinches the bridge of his nose because he knows that he's never going to live this down and he is setting a terrible precedent for the future. He has no doubt that Tony will use this to get his way eventually, because Tony is a genius, philanthropist and all of that, but he's also a four year old who stomps his foot when he doesn't get his way. "I know what I can do, but I trust you with Bucky. He's my best friend. I need to know what's going on. So what's the plan?"

Tony smirks, like he knew it all along that they would get to this point. "We do this in-house."

Tony is also a drama queen who lives to give a show. Steve hates it and cuts him off more times than not, but today he knows that he has to go along. "That's… great?" He's not sure if that's what Tony is going for, but he's trying. "And how do we do this?"

"Funny you should ask."

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes, but it's a very close call. "Hilarious. Tony, focus."

"Gee, Cap, don't get your spandex uniform in a twist." Tony goes back to drinking, like the discussion is over and now Steve is getting pissed.

"Tony, this isn't Avenger business. I'm not Captain America right now. I'm here for a friend, and I'm asking you, as a friend, to help him."

Tony goes quiet and puts the glass down. "That's where you're wrong. We make this Avenger business."

Steve knows this Tony, too. The grown up Tony, who's calculated more possibilities than most people could imagine and has come up with a solution that will either be brilliant or it will blow up in their faces. He hopes for the first. "Why would we do that?"

"Simple, we work with S.H.I.E.L.D., but not really. We do this in house. Bruce can take care of the medical part. I can deal with the tech. Barnes is not tied to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm not saying it's not good that he joins or helps, but it will be his choice," Tony answers. "I can't imagine he's had a lot of choices until now."

Steve smiles because this is why he respects the other man. It's never about his genius, his money, or the latest tech he shares, but these insights into people's psyche and the willingness to help when it really counts. "Thank you."

"That's what friends do," Tony said with a real smile. "I'll get in touch with Bruce. You get your boy here."

"He's not my boy," Steve answers with a frown.

"It's an expression," Tony says rolling his eyes. "You know, maybe we should make you our next project and you can finally learn how we speak in the 21st century. It's about time you embrace this brave new world instead of wasting time with those relics you own, like a radio. Who even uses a radio anymore? You can stream whatever you want, without have to deal with commercials and random facts and annoying commentators. In fact, I don't even know why you listen to the games on the radio when you can just go to Citi Field. The Mets have given you season passes for life. Privileges are wasted on you."

Steve smiles as Tony keeps going about enjoying life and living in the past. He doesn't even stop the rant to complain that he misses Ebbets Field, because this is just another side of Tony that Steve knows well. He's starting to like all parts of Tony. He'll like them even better if they can help Bucky. Now, he needs to convince his friend that this is his best option.

* * *

"Let me get this straight." Bucky's perched on the on the edge of the coffee table as he stares at Steve with wide eyes. "You're telling me...what exactly? Instead of exchanging a new arm for a job doing the same work I was before, but for S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of the Soviets, you've talked Stark's son into building a new arm in exchange for...joining the Avengers?"

It's not that he doesn't trust Steve. Never that.

But, his trust ends there. Bucky doesn't know his team and he certainly doesn't believe in a free deal. Nothing came without strings. Getting a new arm was going to mean choosing which new master to follow.

"And what happens if S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't okay with this? I mean, they're letting me stay with you instead of a cell only because you're _you_ , Captain America. Not that they seem particularly pleased that the ghost they've been after for decades is Captain America's best friend. You know they'd never let me near you if they could stop it, right? They're not going to want me to have anything to do with their Avengers Initiative. Too dangerous. There are enough people who are going to be gunning for the Winter Soldier now that he's defected. Am I supposed to run from S.H.I.E.L.D., too?"

Running his hand through his hair as he runs out of steam, he glances up a little. "I need a haircut."

"Yes, you do," Steve answers because that's the easy part. The long hair look out of place, too modern, too _not_ Bucky, but he doesn't add the last part, or even the first one. He's still too dumbfounded from everything else.

"I'm not trying to get you into the Avengers," he said because that's easy. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to, and that's why the offer. If Tony comes up with an arm, you have the choice. You can still work for S.H.I.E.L.D. while you work with us." There is a distinction there. They all work for Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D., but the Avengers work together. No one can make them do anything. They help because it's the right thing to do.

"You don't have to do either," Steve said, as he sits on the couch. He doesn't have many pieces of furniture, but the living/dining room feels overcrowded. One thing that hasn't changed with time is the size of the rooms in New York, unless you happen to be Tony Stark. "Tony is going to help because… because it's Tony, and because it's for me," he admits.

He hasn't considered the possibility that Fury will object, but he's sure Tony has. "We're not sure that we can do it, although Tony is confident and that's good enough for me. If we can't, then nothing lost. If we can, then I'll deal with Fury. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants us, wants Tony's tech. They need us. We can work with them, or not. Except for Natasha and Clint, the rest of us are-" He smiles as he thinks of Tony and his phrases. "Independent contractors. The point is that we have a choice, and you should have one, too, and that's why I think you should trust Tony and Bruce."

"We used to do just fine without having to rely on Stark," Bucky grumbles. He can't help the uncharitable thought that he's tired of fighting against being replaced by Stark in Steve's life. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not going to want to let the intel I might be able to provide them with each new memory that resurfaces slip through their fingers, Steve. And, be honest, if it was anyone else but me, there wouldn't be any talk of a choice. Not even from you. Would there?"

He looks up at his friend and that's never going to not be strange, even after all this time. "I know you want me on your team, even if you're too noble to do anything other than what you said and let me choose. But, what do Stark and Banner want? What are they expecting in return for this? They're really going to do all this just because you asked?"

"Yes. It's that simple, and really, I didn't even ask," Steve admits. "I'm pretty sure Tony has been thinking about it for a while." The answers he got were too fast, too calculated, and Steve knows Tony too well to believe that the materials he needs aren't already in a room, with specs being prepared.

Steven puts a hand on Bucky's knee. "I know you don't like him. Tony doesn't make it easy for people to like him, but he is a good man and so is Bruce. They will help because it is the right thing to do in this case." Their eyes meet and there's no room for lying. "If it were someone else, we wouldn't be having this discussion, but it is us, and we said that we'd take care of each other. I wasn't there for a long time, but I am here now, and I will take care of you just like you've always done with me. They want to debrief you, then fine. You want to work with them, that's fine, too, Bucky, but if you don't want to, then they get whatever you want to give them when you want to give it to them. because I know that in the end, you will do the right thing."

"Do you, really? Because I don't." It's meant to be flippant, but even Bucky can hear the bitterness and hopelessness in his own voice. After everything he's done, it's hard to believe he would know the right thing if he saw it.

Steve admitting that Bucky would receive special treatment because of their friendship only makes his guilt heavier. "You..." He stops and shakes his head. There are too many conflicting emotions having a rumble in his head to articulate just how much he doesn't deserve Steve's faith. Instead, he falls back on the teasing that's always come as easily as breathing to him. "Just because you're all musclebound now," he says with an attempted smile. "I'm not getting cast as the damsel in distress."

Reaching out, he pushes at Steve's shoulder with his right fist. "I trust you. That's going to have to be enough for now. Okay? I think you're out of your league when it comes to a man like Fury and his manipulations. But..." He takes a deep breath. "Alright. If you trust them, I'll...trust you. I'll talk to them, at least. No promises."

Steve grips Bucky's arm before he can pull back. His hold isn't tight, but he's not letting go either. "I'm not asking you for promises or trust at this point. Well, a little trust that they know what they are doing," he says, although he's never had any doubts about Tony's intelligence or talent, just his commitment, and even that is gone now.

He cracks a smile. "No damsel in distress in the Avengers, but some days you might wish you were and on some other days, you might question why you listened to me in the first place." What Steve doesn't say is that no matter what Bucky decides, he will be there when Steve needs him. Steve just knows that. "I'll let Tony know that we'll go see him, and then you can have a better idea."

* * *

The call comes in the middle of the night. It would be more of a shock if Steve weren't already awake and standing against the door frame of Bucky's room, wondering why he was having the nightmares and not Bucky, or whether Bucky was so used to them that he could sleep through them.

"Tony?" he says and he can see Bucky turning around, too awake for him to have been sleeping only moments before. "Right, we'll be ready." He hangs up. 

"You're still a creep," Bucky says.

Steve smiles in the dark. "Jarvis picked up something extraterrestrial. Natasha is already on her way here. In an helicopter. We need to get to the roof." He doesn't add the part about moving into Stark Tower. Tony has becoming more and more insistent. They had this discussion the day before when they saw him and Bruce about Bucky's arm. Steve knows that it's a logical solution. They'd be right there in case of an emergency, but Steve likes Brooklyn, likes the three story brownstones with the local mom-and-pop stores still thriving instead of the big impersonal chains. He likes having Bucky to himself. "I'll get suited up."

It doesn't take them long to get ready. The noise from the helicopter announces Natasha's arrival while they make their way to the roof, and pretty soon they are landing on a pad in the middle of the city. "What do we have?" Steve says as he steps into Tony's living room. Holographic projections are covering most of it. It's eerie that he's not only used to them now, but he understands some of it. 

"According to Jarvis, we have a new form of metal using an unknown source of energy-"

Bruce fixes his glasses. "What Tony doesn't want to say is that we have no idea, but it's metal and big."

Clint snorts while he plays with his arrows, like he's already imaging taking these new aliens down. "And we have such a good track record with those."

"It is nothing I recognize," Thor adds.

"Right, so business as usual," Tony says with a smirk. 

Steve doesn't laugh, but that's because he's been practicing. He went from hating Tony to accepting him, to actually enjoying having him around, however indulging him would create chaos out there. "Tony, suit up and I'll take a ride with you. Thor, Bruce, go with Natasha and Clint. Let's see what we have before we start shooting things down. Bucky, you have full visual thanks to Jarvis. Let me know what we miss."

Bucky turns his head to stare at Steve, brows coming together in a frown at the order. Whatever he wants to say, he seems to think better of it and just nods. "Yes, sir."

Steve turns to look at Bucky with a frown. No one calls him 'Sir'. Cap, Steve, dickhead (if you're Tony and pissed off) are used, but no one calls him 'Sir'. Bucky never called him 'Sir', so he knows something is wrong, but he doesn't have time to deal with it now. There are aliens to fight and a world to save. "Let's move out," he says instead.

* * *

Winning shouldn't feel so tiring. They kicked unknown aliens' ass. It only took an hour. It took the rest of the day to deal with Fury, doctors, politicians, the media. Steve is so tired that he refuses to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D. for observation. He's fine. They are all fine. A little banged up, a few stitches, some bruises, but nothing serious.

"You almost died," Fury said, trying to convince him to stay. 

Steve almost dies every time they go out there. He's becoming used to it, even if he's not as blasé about it as Tony is. "You're okay?" he asks Bucky when they are finally alone in their apartment.

Bucky nods, eyes traveling over Steve's form a moment. Then, he turns and heads into the bathroom for the first aid kit. Coming back, he folds his arms. "So, where are they?" This is an old song and dance with them. Steve might be a Super Soldier and he might have the medics fooled, but Bucky spent too many years pulling Steve Rogers out of fights he couldn't win not to suspect there was more than Steve let on. "The injuries you _didn't_ tell the medics about because you didn't think they were important enough to waste resources on?"

Not that he doesn't already know every hit Captain America has taken out there. He had a perfect view of everything thanks to Stark-tech and a saucy AI that seems to talk to Stark the same way Bucky does to Steve...which is a little unnerving.

Steve is confused for a moment because he doesn't know who the mysterious 'they' are. He's so used to coming home banged up that it doesn't even crosses his mind to take care of the injuries. The serum usually does the work. In fact, it's almost normal to go out to dinner while still banged up, but that's just because Tony is insane and has decided that they are going to try different types of cuisine after every battle.

"They're fine. I'm fine," he says when he finally understands. "Do you want to tell me what that was? Since when do you call me 'Sir'?"

"It's the proper soldier's response to an order from his commanding officer," Bucky replies airily. "And I haven't believed your 'fine' since I was twelve years old. You know I'm going to find out anyway, so you might as well just tell me where you're hurt and deal with it."

Steve just takes off his shirt because he doesn't want to argue about injuries. "Happy?" He turns and his hands run over his side. The purple bruising is already turning yellow thanks to his healing power. "Bruised ribs. There's nothing you can do, nothing they can do. Rest is what I need. They'll be fine by morning."

He rests the shirt on the back of the chair and steps closer. "We're not in the army and you're not a soldier anymore. We both know that, so what was that?"

"No, that's the one constant. I'm always a soldier. Different sides, different wars. But, I've always been and probably always will be a soldier, Steve." He steps back and turns to take the kit back into the bathroom, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming in frustration.

"Since there's nothing you need me for, I'm going back to bed. You should, too."

Steve follows him, standing at the door of the tiny bathroom that they share. "Fine, you're a soldier and still don't call me 'Sir', but let's go with the idea that maybe you've changed enough that suddenly you use the honorific, you were still angry at something. I just… talk to me, Bucky."

"Something?" Bucky turns, glaring up into those stupidly worried blue eyes. "And you really can't figure out what that something was, Mr. We've Always Taken Care of Each Other? How did you like it when I went off to war with the 107th and you had to stay behind? And you really can't figure out why I'm fucking pissed off at you right now?"

"Yeah, I really can't because no matter what happened, I was never angry with you. It was never your fault," Steve says. He's not angry, but hurt and confused. He would never blame Bucky for what happened. "I was taking care of you. We don't know what's going on with that arm, and until we do, you're not safe in the field. Putting you out there would endanger both of us." 

He reaches out without thinking, his fingers closing around metal, but he doesn't flinch this time. "I want you out there with me, but I'm not putting you at risk. Like it or not, when it is the Avengers, I make that call." Or at least he tries They don't always listen to him, but he keeps trying.

" _Exactly_! It's _your_ call, _Captain_!" Bucky pulls his arm from Steve's grasp. He can do that now because that's what the damn thing gives him, along with whatever Zola and then the Soviets have done to him over the years. It lets him challenge even Captain America and hold his own.

"But, I'm not one of your Avengers. I don't take orders from Captain America. I never have and I never will. This?" He holds up his arm, fingers splayed, brushed dark metal barley reflecting any light. "Isn't going to kill me half as fast as being locked up like some fragile princess in Stark's tower watching from a monitor. I never treated you like glass, even when I wanted to, even when you had to pick a fight with every bruiser on the block. Even if you don't need me, now that you have your Avengers, at least have the courtesy to do the same."

Steve looks at Bucky dejectedly. He doesn't understand how he could have screwed up this badly. He never meant to say that Bucky needed to follow orders, at least not unconditionally. He certainly never meant to make his best friend feel like he was useless, or worse replaceable.

He takes a little step inside the bathroom, and he knows that there's no place for Bucky to go, unless Bucky plans to push him out of the way. Once upon a time, he would have looked up at Bucky, but not anymore. He frames Bucky's face. "I fight with them, but I will always need you, do you understand that? I wasn't locking you away. I want you to fight. With me. I've-"

Steve lets go and steps back, but he never stops looking at Bucky. "I don't want to influence your choice. You should do what's best for you, and fighting with us would influence that choice. Besides, Tony and Bruce are worried about the arm. Until you're cleared… I can't lose you again. It can't be my fault again."

"Steve, don't-" Somehow the conversation has shifted and Bucky's not sure which way it's leaning now. "It was never your fault, you idiot. You've done nothing but save my life since the day you dragged me out of Zola's lab. I was the knucklehead who thought I could protect Captain America the same way I always tried to do with Steve Rogers.

"But, that's always been my choice. It was my choice when you formed the Commandos. It was my choice when I picked up that shield and got thrown off a train. It's what my choice is now." Folding his arms protectively, he looks away. "I don't deserve your friendship. But, I can't lose you, either."

"You can protect me. Not the same way, but you still can, and I still want and need you out there. I just need you to be healthy first," Steve says, smiling. "And you are a knucklehead if you think that you don't deserve my friendship. I don't know what I would have done without you. It wasn't because of the bullies or because you fixed me up afterwards. It's because you were always there even when I didn't need you, always by my side because that's what friends do."

Steve squeezed Bucky's arm. "Does that mean you have an answer for Tony? Because I'd like you to be right there next time the world goes to hell."

"You are too good, you know that, right? There isn't another person on this planet that's as good a man as you." Huffing softly, Bucky can only shake his head. Any other man would have given up on him the minute they realized who he'd become, the things he'd done, the people he'd killed. But, not Steve Rogers. No, Steve Rogers had to go and find a way to wake him up.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. If that's the only way I'm going to be allowed near you out there, Stark and Banner can Frankenstein it up all they like." Looking back at Steve, he smirks. "But, I'm still not taking orders from Captain America."

Steve gives him a bright smile, before he starts laughing. "That's all right. No one else does either. They just pretend to when they don't want to make a decision." He nods toward the other room. "Let's go get some sleep, and we can worry about this in the morning."

* * *

_"You have your assignment, Soldier."_

_Saluting, he turns sharply and strides out to where his transport awaits. It's a short trip to the drop-off zone and by then he's shed the stiff soldier's mien, adopting the casual, relaxed appearance of one of those hated westerners. In his khakis and shirt with a leather jacket, he could be any tourist come to pillage the East for Western excess._

_He slips easily through customs and the target's security, so easily he wants to scoff at the fear these people can inspire in his own. But, he does his job well and the target bleeds out onto his plush white carpet through the slashes to his wrists the Soldier has helpfully slit for him...starting at the elbow._

_From there he travels to another target, a pretty blonde woman with kind eyes that remain open wide with fright long after she's unable to struggle against the scarf he's used to cut off her ability to breathe._

_The ambassador is next, but he is quick. His parted lips, gasping one last time, mirror the gaping hole the Soldier's bullet has left in his forehead from three rooftops away._

_The mission goes to hell with the next one._

_"Take the girl," he orders, forcing himself not to hear the child's screams as he thrusts his knife through her father's heart. She shouldn't have been there. He hadn't been told there was a child._

_The Soldier has words with his superiors after that. He hears their warnings and excuses and ignores both._

_He shouldn't._

_He has secrets of his own and when they're discovered, even his exalted status among the ranks is not enough to soften the blows of his former comrades. His body is broken by the blows. But, as they force him into the tube, it's his spirit that cracks._

_When he awakes, it is to no memory of what's past. They give him a mission, a target, and direct him. He is their weapon and he kills for them with no remorse._

_He sleeps and he kills and he sleeps again. He wallows in blood and feels nothing. He is a machine every bit as much as the one that serves as his left arm. Gun in one hand, a knife in the other, he wades into the war he was groomed to fight without questioning._

Sitting straight up in bed, Bucky aims the handgun he holds in each hand, eyes unseeing on the doorway and the window, as his mind struggles to force itself to stay in the present, not the past.

Steve wakes up with a jolt. The nightmares are not new, but this disjointed sequence of memories is. New memories, new kills, and he has to get up and make sure that his Bucky is in bed. 

He walks slowly, trying to avoid the spots that squeak. It's one of the eternal curses of houses in Brooklyn, but he's learned where the wood makes noise and reaches Bucky's room silently. He shouldn't have bothered. The lights from the street are enough to show him the state Bucky's in. "I had a nightmare," he says, but this time, he doesn't wait for a reply. Steve gets in bed, although he's mindful of the guns. "Put those away, and you can tell me what I saw."

For a long moment, Bucky doesn't move. He barely breathes, tension lining every muscle in his body. Past and present collide again with the familiar explanation in a familiar voice. Steve shouldn't be there. This life isn't for Steve.

Swallowing, he forces his arms to lower, his fingers move away from the triggers. It takes effort to push the past away. But, he takes a breath, then a second. Slowly, he closes and opens his eyes, takes a third breath.

"Only you would just climb into bed with the armed assassin," he says at last, trying for a levity he doesn't feel. Turning away, he puts the guns back on the night table. "There's nothing to tell. If you're really seeing my dreams, then all you're seeing is my life...most of which is in the files."

"I've been climbing into bed with you since we were children," Steve answers. "Come on, lie down," he says as his hands already move to Bucky's shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. "You're lucky that Tony helped me decorate. I was so used to twin beds that I never considered anything else. Tony insisted that only children have twins. He wanted me to get king sized beds. Can you imagine in these rooms? Besides, I never thought I'd have anyone in my bed, let alone in a guest bed, and now, maybe he was right. A queen size feels almost as small as the twin felt all those years ago." He, Steve Rogers, Captain America, he's rambling, but he needs to find a way to reach Bucky, the real one, not the one who believes that his life is nothing more than a string of murders.

He lies down next to Bucky and puts his arm around the other man. "I didn't know we were having the same nightmares. You never woke up before." Or maybe he was pretending to sleep. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve it."

It's impossible for Bucky not to smile just a little at the rambling about beds and people sleeping in them. But, it's a brief smile as Steve's words circle back around to his life. "Dreams, nightmares, memories. It's all the same."

Steve's hands have worked some of the tension from his shoulders, but Bucky still feels on edge, too alert, staring suspiciously at shadows as he lies next to Steve. "What happened to that not being me? They took my memories so often, I didn't care what I was doing, who I was. I never had a name other than Winter Soldier. As I was, I had no problems with what I was asked to do."

"No, the Winter Soldier had no problems with what he did," Steve answers. "I still believe that you aren't responsible, but you are dealing with what he's done because you are a good man, and you do feel something. You're the one who has a problem with what he did. I'm sorry because they used your body. They made you things that you wouldn't have done otherwise, and you're the one feeling the repercussions."

"I am the Winter Soldier. He's still a part of me, Steve. There are things in my head that were never there before, things I know because he knows it. It's not like Banner and the Hulk. It's not something else inside me. It's all a part of me. The Soldier doesn't go away because I woke, you woke me up."

"They are inside me, too, Bucky. I dream your dreams," Steve answers, but he knows that words won't make a difference. He's been saying the same words over and over since he's found his way back to his friend. He needs to find another way to show him that the Winter Soldier doesn't define him.

He's lying on his side, pressed against Bucky's side, his arm still around the other man. He can't think of anything that he can say, and decides that maybe it's time not to use words. He finds Bucky's hand and laces their fingers together just as he presses his lips against Bucky's shoulder, touching warm flesh. "I've always loved you. I don't care why you woke up."

The truth is finally out in the open. Steve doesn't care about all the reasons that brought them here. Bucky is alive and they have another chance to be… he doesn't know or understands what he's been feeling, watching Bucky sleep night after night. He's never felt like this for anyone, but no one could even compare to Bucky. He doesn't know or understands, but he knows he doesn't want it to end. "I love you, and that won't change because of what they made you do, what you think you did. You will use what they taught you for good and we'll fight together. I will be at your side. We'll write new files together."

"Steve..." Suddenly it's like the air's being sucked out of the room. Of all the arguments he might have expected Steve to make, this is not one of them. "Did you get hit over the head tonight and I missed it? You can't-"

He can't think, which makes finishing his sentence difficult. It doesn't register to Bucky's own mind that he's practically clinging to Steve's hand where their fingers are tangled together, despite the fact he turns his head away and squeezes his eyes shut. His ability to think has been short-circuited by an admission that's so much like Steve it makes Bucky ache wishing they could just be those two stupid kids again. "You can't love me. You shouldn't. I'm not- There isn't anything left of me that's good, that's good enough for you."

There never had been anything about Bucky that was good that wasn't a result of Steve Rogers. He made Bucky into a better person. "You should find someone to love who won't just drag you down with them."

"Too late, I already love you," Steve says with a smile. Maybe this should scare him. They are best friends and both men, he's a superhero complete with trademarked toys, but Steve has grown up doing what felt right, regardless of what people thought. He doesn't see why he should let fear stop him from saying something so beautiful.

"I'm not some kind of saint, Bucky. I'm just another guy trying to do his best, and I need you around for that. You're not going to drag me down. Are you really going to argue about what I feel and what I should do and say about it?" he finally says with a snort. "I thought you gave that up after I got beaten for the fifth time because I wouldn't shut up and Billy O'Reily decided to shut me up. Again."

"I'm pretty sure the argument we had at Stark Expo before I shipped out proves I never gave up trying to protect you from yourself. I still think you like getting punched; you keep asking for it. And Billy O'Reily is still talking out the side of his broken jaw if he's still alive," Bucky adds with a soft growl. He remembers the beating Steve had taken that day, just like he remembers every beating Steve took. It probably should tell him something. But, Bucky's not ready to deal with that on top of all of this.

He's not ready to deal with it, but he can't ignore it either.

Because it's Steve.

And, that should explain it all, Bucky thinks.

Turning onto his side, he curls into Steve's warmth, hands pressed flat against his friend's chest. Bucky rests his forehead on Steve's shoulder the way Steve used to turn to him when they were kids. He doesn't break down or give in to the shaking that always follows dreams like these when he's alone. He just simply accepts that Steve is there to catch him while he's falling.

"I lived a nightmare," he whispers.

Steve doesn't give him platitudes. He doesn't know what Bucky has gone through. He's seen glimpses, but that's hardly the same thing. Instead, he wraps his arms around his friend, which isn't an easy thing even for Captain America because Bucky is all muscles and tension. "I wasn't there before. I'm here now." He kisses Bucky's forehead like they used to do as children, mirroring behavior they saw from parents they didn't have. "Things will get better. The bullies might be from out of space, but we'll fight them together. I'm not letting you go this time and… I'm not going to stop you from fighting," he adds with a grin. "Just have them take care of you, first, okay?"

Bucky sighs softly, fighting not to grin back. "I already said I'd let the Mad Science Brothers have their way with me. Quit while you're ahead, Rogers."

It's not exactly what Bucky said before, but Steve won't argue because he knows when to back off. "Let's see if you can shut up and we can get some sleep now." They can deal with the implication of what he's said in the morning.

* * *

Things never go as planned. It's not that Steve is expecting for war to end and poverty to be eradicated. No, he does expect a week without a major invasion, or some genius that decides to build a machine that destroys the world, or some mutant goes insane. Just a week. That's not much to ask.

He doesn't get it.

They are in Tony's lab, finally getting Bucky's arm replaced when his phone rings. It's the Scarlet Witch to let them know that Magneto has decided to kill everyone at the United Nations, and the X Men are busy on the West coast with a group of Sentinels gone crazy. It's just another Tuesday.

"Change of plans. This is going to have to wait. Magneto is at the United Nation," he says as he hangs up. "Jarvis let Natasha and Clint know that they should meet us there. Tony, we'll see you there." Steve looks at Bucky and squeezes his arm. "It's Magneto He'll talk, we'll fight. We'll be back soon."

As he watches the others leave, Bucky has every intention of staying behind like he'd promised. But, as soon as Jarvis brings up live images of the scenes, he knows he can't stay behind to watch Steve and his friends get hammered again.

"Jarvis, bring up whatever files you have on Magneto and the goons with him." While he pulls on his jacket and checks his weapons, Bucky scans the information provided by the AI.

"Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers' instructions-"

"Cap's not my commanding officer, Jarvis. He's my best friend." _My whole reason for being here_ , he thinks. "And I can't see to cover his six or the others' from here. No offense. You can't replace eyes on the ground. So, you can inform him of my approach, making him worry and possibly get hurt. Or you can keep this between us. But, I'm going. If Iron Man isn't a liability in this fight, I sure as hell am not."

"Sergeant, if I may, your weapons-"

"Aren't all made of metal, Jarvis," he tosses off as he makes his way out the door. His former masters had been a lot of things, but sloppy with his creation and training hadn't been one of them.

If he hurries, he'll get there before the talking Steve mentioned is finished. After all, Steve might kill him, but better him than Steve. When he arrives, he's glad that he's decided to run down Forty-Second Street to the United Nation, because this doesn't seem to be going according to Steve's expectations.

It's obviously one of those days and even Magneto seems determined to veer from established plans. There's no speech, or long explanation. No, Magneto just grounds Iron Man as soon as they approach, which puts a dent on Steve's intention to make it nice and quick. 

Steve also really hates to fight Magneto because on any given day, you don't know if he's siding with the good or the bad guys, and his children are both X Men. Still he uses his best Captain America's voice. "Stop this, Magneto."

"You don't know what they have done," Magneto answers

It's true, he doesn't, but he can guess, which means Magneto is technically fighting on the side of the good guys. "They sent hidden sentinels to the X Men's home, and that's where you should be, protecting your home."

"I am protecting my home," Magneto says. "They can't hurt us if we're dead.

"There will be more, and they will be even more afraid and will create more weapons to destroy mutants. Go home. We'll help and we will see what we can do with-" He points at the glass building. Politics aren't his thing, but Tony can help. 

He thinks he's getting through to Magneto when some idiot from the UN security force shoots Magneto from the back and hits his helmet. After that, all hell breaks loose, and Steve isn't really protecting anyone anymore, but he's standing between the two sides, hoping to end this as bloodlessly as possible. 

He keeps an eye on everything. He sees Tony getting up and instead of fighting Magneto, he's stopping bullets. Clint is distracting some of Magneto's men, and he knows that it's Bucky facing Magneto. He wants to stop everyone and just go scream at him, but instead he does his job and breathes a little easier when Natasha joins them. 

He doesn't know how Natasha finally convinces Magneto and his men to get on her plane and leave, but she'll be getting a big gift when she returns. It's a pretty uneventful end to a fight with few casualties and plenty of damages. He's sure they will get calls from Fury, the President, and possibly the X Men. It's all going to wait for later.

"Let's go," he says over the comms, and he walks back to Tony. He walks alone because he's not sure he can be with someone and not explode. He doesn't ask how the rest make it back, but they are already there when he arrives. Okay, so his walk could have involved going all the way up to Fiftieth and then back down instead of walking straight down Forty-Second. He was probably still faster than those taxis stuck in midtown traffic. 

They are in Tony's lab again, as if nothing has happened. He put his shield down and leans against a glass wall, arms crossed in front of him. "Let's do this before Fury calls." Not that he's needed here. He could speak to the man while Tony does this, but regardless of how angry he is, he wants to be here.

Bucky can see the anger in every line of Steve's body, just like Steve saw his. It's ridiculous, sometimes, how well they can read each other. Although, he shouldn't be surprised after the conversation the other night.

But, for his part, Bucky's the most relaxed he's been since Steve gave him his memories back. This is the first time he's been in any form of combat since then and he needed it as much as everyone else thinks he needs a new arm. "You heard him, gentlemen. Let's get the show on the road."

Tony would normally give a long explanation, take a few jabs at people's intelligence, show off just what a great mind he has and possibly bow a few times for his captivated audience. Steve might even indulge him with that tiny smile that says he's ready to laugh, but doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, but Tony knows that he made Steve smile and that's enough. Today is not one of those days.

He can see how tense Steve is, a tension that has little to do with what they are doing now and Tony wants to be out of the line of fire when these two come to blows. Bruce must agree because he's just looking at the computer, connecting wires to Bucky's chest to make sure that his vitals are stable. He and Tony exchange a few words, but they speak a language that no one else understand. They know what they are doing, they found a way to disconnect the arm and attach a new one, they do it with efficiency and expediency and not even a hint of explanation to the other two.

"The joint looks good. No sign of decay," Bruce says. "Vitals look good as well. Medically, we should be all right. It's still a foreign object, which means we'll need to monitor in the next few days and weeks." He turns to Tony who picks up like they have rehearsed this.

"We need to see if you can control it. Raise your arm and open and close your fingers," Tony orders. "Also try to tighten them into a fist. We can work on weapon control tomorrow." He grins at Steve. "Or whenever you feel like it, Cap."

Steve rolls his eyes. "We'll be here tomorrow unless Fury decides that we should rebuild the UN ourselves." Knowing Fury, it's a possibility. "How does it feel?" he asks Bucky.

Bucky starts slow, testing. He opens and closes his hand, bends each finger to touch the thumb, makes a fist. Then he stands, swinging the arm in a smooth arc over his head followed by a few experimental tai chi forms. "Good." He turns to look at Steve with a grin. "Really good."

Forming a fist, he takes a slow motion punch at the air. He might even be starting to appreciate Stark technology a little. "Going to need more than weapon control. Someone's going to have to go to the mat with me, too. Probably you first, Steve. Then Natasha."

"Tony said tomorrow." Steve and Tony have some fundamental differences with the way they see the world, but Steve trusts Tony's judgment when it comes to their tech. That and he really doesn't want to test weapons or even spar when he's angry.

Bucky almost rolls his eyes, but he can still sense his friend's mood and refrains. "I heard that. I'm just saying, more needs to be tested than just weapons. I'm as much a hand-to-hand guy these days as I am a sniper."

Tony resists the urge to laugh, but he looks at Bruce who's staring at the computer screen, even though Tony knows that there's nothing new there. Coward! "Right, tomorrow when you can use Fury's training rooms and not destroy my gym. You can go kids."

Steve glares, but Tony keeps looking smug and Bruce - the traitor snorts at Tony's comment. "Fine, tomorrow."

"You might want to leave the Captain America super tight spandex here. Sure, it'll get you a free cab drive, but some diplomats might run you over," Tony says as Steve starts to walk out.

Steve closes his eyes. He will not kill his teammates. He repeats it as a mantra, but he goes to change nonetheless, and then meets Bucky again. "Let's go home." The discussion can wait until they get there.

The subway ride is silent and uncomfortable. It's rush hour, they are standing up and they keep being thrown against each other by the crowd and the jerky train movements. Steve does not enjoy that. Not at all, except that he totally does, and that pisses him off even more because he could have lost all of this, he could have lost Bucky.

He walks up the stairs of the train station two at a time, and pretty much keeps going until they are in their apartment. "I thought we had an agreement," he said as soon as the door is shut. "Was it so hard to wait one more day? One more, to make sure that you're all right, but you couldn't listen. No, you thought it was a good idea to go into battle against Magneto of all people, who can literally rip that arm off. What were you thinking?"

"That an arm is a lot less than an entire metal suit." Bucky starts ticking points off on his fingers. "That the arm was coming off anyway. That even with one arm I'm still more lethal than most. That Jarvis' projections are terrible for being able to see anything of value, making me useless even for watching your six from afar. That even you went out against him with a metal shield, while I have ceramic knives."

Lowering his hand, he shakes his head. "I said I'd let them replace the arm. I never actually agreed not to fight until it was done. And you know what? I needed this, Steve. I needed to be out there, fighting as I am...or was. I needed one fight without any obligations to the Avengers or Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or anyone. I needed to know I could go out there and not give in to the bloodlust of the Winter Soldier _before_ one of my greatest weapons got a Tony Stark upgrade.

"More importantly, I can't sit back and watch you take a beating. I haven't been able to do that since we were kids and it hasn't changed in almost ninety years. I'm sorry, but it's a physical impossibility. So, yes, it really was that hard to wait one more day when you were out there fighting _today_."

"I didn't go against him with a shield. I went against him with my words." Why can't anyone understand that sometimes talking does work? "If you didn't notice, it was how Natasha stopped everything."

He isn't sure why he is even arguing about that. It's the most unimportant thing in everything Bucky has said, and maybe that's why it's the easiest to answer. 

Steve moves closer, standing right in front of his friend. It's not intimidation. He knows better than to try that with Bucky, but he has this need to see Bucky's eyes when they speak, like they are their own special conduit to the truth. "You have no obligations to anyone. The Avengers is just a name. We're people with skills and powers who fight together because we're friends. It didn't start that way, but that's what it is."

He's still angry, but his anger takes a backseat when faced with Bucky's doubts. "There was no need to prove that. You're not him. You have his memories, his skills, but you're not him." He grips Bucky's shirt and steps even closer. "You can never be him, and do you know why? Because no matter what they did to you, when they send you to kill me, when you faced me, deep down inside you knew what was right. You didn't need me to tell you because you knew, but if that's not enough, I am here now to tell you."

He closes his eyes, feeling like he's failing again. He can never say the right words, the ones that will finally convince Bucky. He's angry and tired and his phone has been vibrating since they got off the subway. He knows he should answer, face Fury, but instead he's still here, trying, hoping, fighting for a way to end this standstill.

Steve opens his eyes again, and he remembers that before he was Captain America, he was that small kid from Brooklyn who didn't take any crap from anyone and didn't let the situation beat him. He won't give up now, and if words won't do the trick- He uses the grip to pull Bucky forward and meets him halfway, pressing their lips together, in what's probably the most awkward kiss in history, with teeth scraping skin a little too hard and no finesse, but it's not like Steve has had much experience on that front. 

"You need to learn to stop," he says as he pulls back. "We fight together. You don't put yourself between me and danger. Is that understood?" It's probably the strangest follow up to a kiss. Steve's life is never normal anyway.

Words. Bucky knows he should be speaking words. But, all he does is blink up at Steve as a few more pieces fall into place. His breathing is a little labored, his skin is vibrating with energy, all because of one very clumsy kiss from his best friend. Bucky's hands, which he'd brought up instinctively to push away from Steve, have instead curled around firm arms. If he didn't know better, he'd think that was all that was anchoring him in the moment.

"I can't promise not to try to protect you. I can't..." Biting his lip, Bucky debates quickly whether to say what he wants to or leave things where they are. But, cowardice isn't really something he does. "I...There's a footnote in my files about a mission where I went off the grid for two weeks. My masters found me here, in New York, no idea what I was looking for or doing here. They kept me in stasis again after that and never sent me back to this country. Not until I was supposed to kill you. But, I think it was you. Some part of me was trying to come home, to find you.

"I've always tried to live up to your ideals because you inspire me, Steve. Even before Captain America, you made me want to be a better man. It wasn't knowing what was right that kept me from killing you. It was _you_. My masters wanted my fighting instincts. But, my oldest and strongest instinct has always been to protect...to protect you."

Bucky has never said the words, _those_ words, and he's afraid to say them now. Not because he doesn't care about Steve, but because he cares too much to say it when he's not sure of himself and his feelings. He's always cared about Steve, perhaps more than was strictly normal for best friends. But, until Steve made his declaration the other night, Bucky has never thought about it in these terms. He's never thought about kissing Steve until just now, when all he really wants is to do it again.

"I can't watch from the sidelines. I can't watch you fight and not want to be right there to watch your back. I can't-" He looks up at Steve, wrapping his flesh and blood hand around the back of Steve's neck. "I need to be there," he breathes, then leans up to close the rest of the distance between them, crushing their lips together as though his life depends upon kissing Steve.

Maybe it does.

Steve has always imagined kissing and loving someone. It's always been something theoretical, out of black and white movies, with flowers and dinners, and long courtships because that's the man he is, except now he's hanging onto his best friend like nothing else in the universe matters. His hands move under Bucky's shirt and up his back, pulling Bucky closer.

There are words, problems with what has said, things they need to discuss, but right now Steve can't think beyond this need that has spun over two different centuries. He stands here, holding onto Bucky and feeling lost at the same time. This is so outside of his realm of knowledge that he doesn't know what to do; he knows that he doesn't want to hurt Bucky.

"I've never." He doesn't end the sentence because he's pretty sure Bucky knows the ending. It's not a blushing virgin, but he is a virgin. There was a war to fight. Since waking up, Steve has been too busy to have a relationship and isn't the one-night stand type of guy. "And it's a little too late to take you out for dinner or a dance." He's also not a coward. "I want you. I don't know what I'm doing, but I know I want you. I think... I'm pretty sure I wanted back then. I was so jealous when you went off with those birds, and it's taken all of this time to realize that I wasn't jealous that they wanted you instead of me, but that you wanted them."

Bucky laughs softly. "You clearly spent too much time with Agent Carter and the Brits. Birds?" Steve's hands on his skin are doing strange things to his ability to concentrate. But, Bucky's too aware of exactly how much Steve doesn't know to allow himself to be distracted entirely. "I never wanted _them_ , Steve. Never wanted anyone. Just wanted to get off. Why do you think I only ever saw the ones that put out twice?"

And that's the problem. Steve still only sees the good in him. How can Bucky do this, when he knows Steve can't see him for what he really was, will be blindsided by the darkness when it finally comes out?

"Steve-" He's interrupted by the sudden vibration in Steve's pocket, causing him to startle and gasp because, despite his better intentions, just kissing Steve has Bucky on that edge faster than he can remember ever getting riled up over a dame before.

Pulling Steve's phone out of it's hiding place, he glances at the display and presses it into Steve's hand that he pulls reluctantly out from under his own shirt. "Take the man's call," he says, stepping back and putting some distance between them. "Be the better man and do the right thing before things between you and me get far enough that we're naked when he sends a team to collect you because he doesn't like being ignored."

Steve doesn't want to, but he knows that it's just easier to deal with Fury now. He still doesn't think a team would show up. Fury is more likely to send accountants at Tony, but his conscience won't let him skirt his duty and he nods. "Fine, it won't take long."

Bucky takes a shaky breath and runs his hand through hair that still needs to be cut before removing himself from the room and forcing Steve to focus on Fury's call. He finds himself out on the fire escape as he listens to the murmur from inside the apartment. As much as he wants to make Steve happy, as much as his own body is telling him that Super Soldier physique doesn't need to be ignored the way Bucky always has purposely, something still feels...off, unresolved.

He's wondering what's wrong with him when he becomes aware of a presence on the ladder beside him.

"Who taught you to sneak up on people like that," he asks with a smirk.

"You did," Natasha replies with an answering smirk.

"Good for me." He chuckles. "So, you got Magneto and his people settled? If you're looking for Steve, he's inside on the phone with Fury."

"I did. But, I'm actually here to talk to you." She steps off the ladder to stand beside him. "Fury wants to see you in the morning."

"I'll bet he does." Bucky snorts softly.

"You might be surprised. He's a spy and a politician, but he's one of the good guys or I wouldn't be working for him."

"Yeah, I know. Steve, either. But, it's the government."

"And the government feels like the enemy after what you've been through." She doesn't say it, but he knows from the way she's looking at him that she understands. He can hear the silent _I know_ at the end of that. "Which is why Fury has a proposition for you."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"That's for Fury to tell you himself. But, I think it's something you can live with." She smiles, just a little. This Natasha has learned to hide her emotions far better than the girl Bucky once knew. "Something that will let you seek the redemption you want."

Redemption.

Yeah, that sounds about right. Bucky knows what Steve thinks. But, Steve, for all his experience with the nightmares, doesn't know what Bucky feels.

"Steve's off the phone." Natasha reaches out and touches his hand. "Go see Fury tomorrow. And Stark says to tell Steve he's still waiting on an answer about moving into the tower."

"About what?"

She's already gone, though, even though Bucky would have sworn he hadn't taken his eyes off her for longer than it took to look down at her hand on his. Crazy Russian spies. Shaking his head, he climbs back into the apartment and goes to find Steve.

Not that there's enough apartment there to make the finding difficult. Bucky just watches the other man for a moment. Steve Rogers. His best friend. His savior in a lot of ways. The man he loves?

He tests that thought, mentally poking at it, and is surprised to find it's not quite as soft and vulnerable as he'd thought.

"So, how much trouble are we in?" he asks as he puts his arms around Steve's waist. Bucky knows how much his earlier departure could have looked like a rejection it wasn't, despite his teasing words about being naked. He doesn't want his uncertainties to hurt Steve anymore than he thinks they already have. They just need to get a few things straightened out so he won't feel like he's taking advantage of Steve's feelings if...when...this happens.

Steve shrugs. He saves the world. He'll never understand why people focus on the economic costs and not on the fact that lives have been saved. " _We_ are not in trouble. It was my choice to bring the Avengers in. If he has a problem- He can call the X Men the next time he has a problem." He nods to the fire escape. He didn't miss the voices or movements from before, but Bucky deserves his privacy. "Anything I should know about?"

"And I crashed your battle," Bucky points out. "Not that it wasn't entirely security's fault things escalated. But, I'm guessing he had words for you about that, too. So, _we_ are in trouble." This used to be so easy. It didn't matter who made the choice. They were in it together. Now, it seems like Steve is bound and determined to take it everything on himself even more than usual.

"Natasha's back," he replies with a shrug of his own. "She came bearing messages. Nothing immediately important. Something about Stark wanting an answer on moving, which made no sense to me. And, Fury wants to see me tomorrow. She said he had an offer, though. So, maybe you really are the only one in trouble."

Bucky bites his lip again, wondering when he picked that habit up, or if it's something new along with all the doubts and insecurities that plague him these days. "Steve, I..."

He'd thought he could use the interruption to put his thoughts in order and explain his hesitation to Steve. But, looking up at him now, Bucky realizes he's still not sure how to explain in a way Steve will understand. Sighing, he brushes his lips along Steve's jaw. "I'm not saying 'no'. But, I can't say 'yes' until we talk and I'm not sure how to do that."

"Fury doesn't decide who comes with us." Steve knows that it's not technically right. Fury created the Avengers, and then they changed the rules a little. Steve blames Tony for that, but then Bruce and Thor aren't any better at following orders. "Don't worry about that." 

He knows that things have changed before Bucky even says anything, and it's fine he tells himself. He's not disappointed; if he repeats it over and over, then he'll believe it. "Tony wants me to move into the tower. He's been asking for a while. I've already told him that I like Brooklyn. He doesn't like the answer." This is one of those times when he knows that Tony's suggestion makes sense, but Steve isn't ready to give up this last link to a normal life.

For a man that always has something to say, Steve doesn't have much to say right now. "We are talking, Bucky. We've been talking since you come back, but sometimes that's not enough. Sometimes, you just need time," he says because he remembers all too well how many punching bags he destroyed at the start. "We can go to dinner if you want, and we'll talk whenever you're ready."

"I'm trying to talk now, ya punk. I'm just not any good at it when it's not wisecracks and sarcasm." Bucky can see it in Steve's eyes, the instinct to pull back and sacrifice what he wants for what he thinks someone else needs. Any other time, he might look fondly on his friend for it. But, right now he just wants to scream.

This time it's Bucky who takes a fistful of Steve's shirt to haul him in for a kiss that sets Bucky's blood on fire. "It's not that I don't want to, idiot." He's not letting go, even if he has to pull back a little to feel like he can breathe. "It's that I _do_ want to, more than I realized before you kissed me. I never...you're my best friend, my only friend, and I never...I need to know that I'm doing this for the right reasons, that I won't hurt you. Sex is easy. If this was just about whether I want to have sex with you, we'd be having sex right now. But, I don't trust myself, especially not with you. You're all I have worth anything in this world and if I hurt you..." He shakes his head. "I can't be the one to hurt you, Steve. I just can't. And I could and I don't think you can even see that.

Steve watches for a moment and it has to bite down on the first answer that comes to mind. Bucky will never hurt him; unfortunately, Bucky doesn't like that answer.. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Finally he shakes his head. "Sex is easy, but the rest is even easier because we've been doing it since we were children. What is that you said? Your first instinct is to protect me, an instinct that survived decades and brainwashing. I can't imagine any two people who can start a relationship with anything as powerful as what we have."

He smiles. "I can't see you hurting me because you won't. It's as simple as that."

"You can't _know_ that!" Now Bucky does let go, pushing away from Steve as if he's been burned. "I don't even know that! Forget the fact that it's entirely possible I'm walking around with hidden triggers we won't know about until they activate and I kill a dozen people. What if I'm just feeling like this because it _is_ easy? Maybe it's too easy? I never even considered this until you said you loved me. What if it's just because I feel so lost everywhere else and you've always been home to me?"

He wants to bang his head against the wall. It would be about as productive. But, instead, he paces away as far as the small room will let him, before pacing back again. "I wish I could see myself the way you do. I really do. But, I know what's in my head, in my heart. I've never been a truly 'good' man, Steve. I try. But, I'm not. And, still, you can't even see that. It's like all you can see is that kid who came to your rescue, the soldier who followed you to war. You keep saying it wasn't me who did any of those things. But, it was. It was, Steve. It's not who I am now, maybe. But, it was still me. I did those things, whether you want to see it or not.

"And I know what kind of things I'm capable of, now. Maybe I'm just selfish enough to convince myself I'm in love with you, too, in order to stop feeling like you don't even see me for I really am anymore. I don't know. I'm not afraid of killing you, or something like that. I'm afraid you don't really understand what I've become, who I am, and you're going to be disappointed and betrayed when you finally do."

Steve stands his ground, as if this were some kind of battle, but for the first time in his life, he doesn't think he can't win. He still tries because that's just who he is. "You've been a good man any time you've been in control of your faculties. Maybe I'm not the one who doesn't see things the way they are." 

He wants to touch Bucky, hold him, tell him that the nightmares will go away, but instead he does none of those things. "Have you considered that this isn't the easy thing at all? That this - us would make you happy, and that's something you haven't had in too long. Maybe you can't come to terms with this because then you can lose something. It's easier to give it up, hiding behind actions that were dictated by others, than to accept that for the first time since that train, _you_ make the decision because that's the only truth there is. You fell from the train and you stopped making any decision, which means anything you have done is not your responsibility, but since we've discussed this multiple times and neither of us is going to change our minds, how about that dinner? The rest needs to wait until you can believe that the past is never going to impact what I think of you because that past is irrelevant. If you don't believe me, go speak to any priest. The basic idea of sin is free will. You can't sin if you have no free will. If God doesn't think you did anything wrong, how can I?"

"The past is not irrelevant when it's still part of my present!" Bucky snaps, at a total loss how to get around this impasse. "The Winter Soldier is always going to be part of who I am now. I have his thoughts and his memories. I have _his_ instincts alongside those of Sergeant Barnes. It's what I tried to explain before, how this isn't the same as Banner. There is no 'Other Guy'. There's me and there's me. They didn't replace me with someone new. They filled the hole where the experiences that made me who I was had been. They took a blank slate and painted their own picture there. I may have the old experiences back, but they're mixed in with the new experiences and that makes me a different person.

"I didn't go to sleep and just wake up. I was out there. The fact I could defy orders, that I could subconsciously try to find my way back to you, proves I was still there for those experiences. Maybe it's not my _fault_ , but I still went through them and it still changed me. I can't just go back to being the person who fell off that train. And, I'm not trying to give up whatever could be between us. But, I don't want you to love me just in spite of that past, either because I'm not hiding behind the Winter Soldier. I'm trying to take the pieces of him and the pieces of Sergeant James Barnes and put them back together in some form of Bucky. But, I can't do that if you refuse to acknowledge half the pieces even exist."

Suddenly, all the fight goes out of him because he knows Steve doesn't get it and he's not going to get it. Steve really did just go to sleep and wake up a generation or two later. He doesn't feel like he has multiple personalities first thing when he wakes up. He just wakes up and looks on his world of black and white, unable to see the million shades of grey where Bucky exists.

"Never mind. Maybe you're right and we can't resolve this tonight. Just let me get my gloves and we can go out."

* * *

"I was going to see how things fared with that arm of yours. But, I see there have been a few changes on that front."

Fury's watching him with an almost serene expression and Bucky just shrugs. "An opportunity came my way I couldn't refuse."

The meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Director has been underway for less than a minute and already Bucky's on guard while trying not to show it. Hearing about this man was no real preparation for dealing with him.

"Funny," Fury says. "You never struck me as an opportunist."

Bucky can only shrug again and keep his gaze steady as he meets Fury's across the table.

"No matter. You have left me in a very interesting position, Sergeant. On the one hand, I have a wanted criminal and, on the other, a bona fide war hero."

"I think war hero is laying it on a little thick. Don't you, Director?"

"What do you think?"

And this is why he can't believe the Russians ever trained him as a spy. Bucky's always hated word games. A little flirting, turning up the charm, a white lie or two, that was one thing and it had helped them survive the orphanage and the streets. These kind of word games, however, are just annoying. "I think I was told you have an offer for me."

"Indeed, I do. We have some experience with others in your situation, others who've escaped the same people that did this to you."

"Natasha."

"For one, yes. What we know from that experience is that it takes time for all the memories to come back. Now, no one else has been restored with a tesseract before. But, I'm willing to bet it will be the same for you. Only you are the highest placed member of that organization-"

"I wouldn't call me a _member_ exactly."

"Person of interest?" It's very hard to get a read on Fury with that eye-patch. "The point is, you have information locked inside your head that could be potentially very useful to a lot of people. Not all of whom will appreciate your special circumstances."

"You mean they'll treat me like the killer I was," Bucky says without a trace of humor. He knows that much, knows he's only getting whatever chances he's getting because of Steve.

"I mean, I'm offering you the best option you're going to get."

"I appreciate that, Director. But, I think I've spent long enough serving any government blindly."

"And Captain Rogers has offered to let you fight with the Avengers. Stark has given you a new arm to mitigate any reliance or obligation you have to S.H.I.E.L.D. I may only have one eye, but I am not blind, Sergeant. In fact, I might see things a bit more clearly. For example, I know exactly how much faith in the Avengers, which is not all that high to begin with, will plummet once someone recognizes the Winter Soldier fighting with them. The world is not quite the optimistic, benefit of the doubt extending place you remember. I am already fielding questions about you from interested parties who took notice in the confrontation with Magneto yesterday."

"I remember a lot more than you might think." But, Bucky's worried now. He hadn't considered fighting with Steve as anything but protecting him, watching his back. He doesn't want to be what hurts him out there anymore than he wants to be the one to break his heart.

"I know you do. And you'll remember more. Information that could help the others like you who haven't escaped."

"Others?"

"You didn't really think you were the only asset sold off in the collapse of the Soviet Union, did you? We know there are others, but that's about all we know. You were the shining star in their crown, you have probably seen more than anyone else other than their scientists, most of whom are now dead."

So that's what Natasha had meant about redemption. Bucky sits in silence for a moment; Fury does the same. They're taking each other's measure and Bucky's not sure where the lines end up drawn. "If I were to help, and that's a big if, I stay independent. I'm not coming to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. permanently the way Natasha has. And I take point on any mission sent to retrieve someone I remember."

Fury's lips curve upwards very slightly and Bucky knows he's played right into the position Fury wanted him to take in the first place. "I'll see if that can be arranged. _If_ you take the job, of course. You'll let me know?"

"Yeah, let me think about it."

* * *

If Steve didn't know better, he'd think that the gods above have something against him, but Steve knows better, and he knows there's only one God and has bigger problems than Steve. However, for a short moment, Steve hopes that God send those problems his way. Invasions, earthquakes, mutants, aliens. He'll take anything at this point. Instead absolutely nothing happens all day, which means Steve has a lot of time to think about the meeting that Bucky had with Fury.

It's not even that Steve doesn't trust Fury, but he doesn't trust big organizations with lots of firepower at their disposal. He might fight for the United States of America, but he knows that the politicians don't always have the best interest of the people at heart. Even worse, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't even part of the American government, which leaves Steve willing to work with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D., but not exactly eager to follow their lead.

He wants to say all of that, but he doesn't want to influence Bucky's decision. Fury must have made the pitch today, and speaking against it sounds too much like the little kid in the play ground begging 'pick me, pick me', even though he knows no one wants him on their team. So Steve stays silent, and he goes out, trains, argues with Tony for a while, buys the groceries. He even cleans the bathroom because making those tiles shine takes hard work, and finally makes dinner.

They eat in the kitchen. The table is so small that their knees keep bumping. It never occurs to Steve to sit in front of Bucky instead of next to him, though. "You've been quiet," he says while he picks at his food.

"Been thinking." Bucky's also toying with his food. He won't leave any of it. Too many years going without at times for one reason or another have taught him the value of eating while he can. But, he still just pushes it around more than he eats it.

Things are so off kilter, now. It's almost ironic that Steve gave him a speech about choices the night before, how he hasn't had many. Now he has too many and not enough. He's not even sure where things stand with Steve, how much of their friendship can remain intact when it seems like there isn't hope anymore for anything else. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. But, Bucky's never done that well. And it wouldn't be fair to Steve, either. Not that Bucky believes much of anything is fair these days.

"How would it work? If I fought with you and the Avengers? The Winter Soldier may be a myth, but so was Captain America before they found you in the ice. My description is out there and a part of half a dozen Most Wanted lists. Winter Soldier is a wanted man for a number of high profile assassinations and probably a few acts of terrorism by today's definitions. To have him show up as part of the Avengers? How would that work?" It was something he hadn't considered when he made his rash decision the day before.

It's not something that Steve has considered, until now, but he can't say he's very worried. "You show up with the Avengers. Besides, who says that you are the Winter Soldier? I know that, you know that, there's one blurry pictures from too long ago. The only way Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. connected the dots is through me. The only way people find out is if Fury or someone else inside S.H.I.E.L.D. leaks it and if that happens, they won't have to worry about alien invasions anymore," Steve says a little too coldly.

"This is exactly why I wanted Tony and Bruce to help," he admits. "Fury can use it against you. It's bad enough that he has what he has and that's my fault." He pushed away his plate and rested his forearms on the table. "I knew back during the war that what the government tells us to do isn't always the right thing. Fury doesn't even work for a government. I'm not sure who he works for. I trust that he wants to keep earth safe, but that doesn't mean that I trust his methods. I will work with him, I will take his phone calls, but I don't work for him, not like Natasha and Clint do. Tony and Bruce are more like me. What I'm trying to say is that you find what works for you. You can still work for Fury and fight with the Avengers if that's what you want, but don't let him pressure you into it because out there, I don't need the Winter Soldier, I need Sgt. Bucky Barnes, and that's how it's going to work."

Bucky stares at him and then chuckles. "I love you, pal, but sometimes you're still that idealistic kid mouthing off to bullies in the back alley, aren't you? You really think S.H.I.E.L.D. is the only agency on any side with a file on me? Or their own blurry pictures? My targets weren't just on American soil, or American targets. I wouldn't be a legend if no one had any evidence at all. But, I'm not even talking about knowing that James Barnes is the Winter Soldier. In case it escaped your notice, the one physical trait that is absolutely known about the Winter Soldier is a little hard to hide if I want to make any real use out of it. Sure, I _can_ be just as lethal with only one arm. But, I'm not really super-anything like most of you guys and most of the guys you go up against. Having the arm free is a plus." He smirks. "Besides, after seeing him fight, I kind of want to see how many of his little toys Stark can build into this baby. After we apologize for skipping out on weapons control tests today."

He sort of likes the display of protectiveness, though, which is all kinds of stupid after he's been chafing at Steve's over protective nature since his memories returned. "I'm not a fan of the government, Steve, any government. I've spent too long under one's thumb to be happy to jump into bed doing the same thing for another. I'm not worried about the legitimacy of Fury's offer or the repercussions of not taking it. If I do, it's because it's something I want to do, something I need to do. But, I am worried about you and your credibility if someone recognizes the Winter Soldier, not Sergeant Barnes, fighting alongside Captain America. I want to have your back. You know that. Nothing's changed my mind about that. But, I want to know you've at least thought about it. That you understand you're getting Sergeant Barnes _and_ the Winter Soldier because you can't separate the two. No matter how much you want to. Very few people even know who Bucky Barnes was. And you even said yourself if it was anyone else but me you wouldn't be offering opportunities like this."

Steve laughs at that. "My credibility? Since the first time I put the uniform on in this century, people couldn't decide if I was the best thing after apple pie or the devil's son. These aren't the 40s. People don't really believe in Captain America. Sure, they do when something bad happens, but two moments later, you have Fox News and CNN trying to outdo each other in pointing out all that we do wrong, how much rebuilding will cost, how much could have been saved if we moved faster, did something better. Tony keeps an eye on it, but even politicians aren't sure if we're a good thing or a bad thing."

He reaches over and covers Bucky's hand. "I don't fight because of my credibility, or because I want people to like me. I fight because it's the right thing to do because someone has to stand up for the people who can't protect themselves. If that makes me the same idealistic kid yelling at bullies, then I'm glad because that's why Dr. Erskine picked me in the first place. It's also why I'm making the offer. It's not because I know you or because I love you, but because I know who you really are and I trust you to do the right thing."

Letting go, Steve rubs his hand against his jeans. "I went to Tony's today, so no apologies needed on that front. Bruce was there too. They might think that I'm being a little too… black and white about your past." More like Bruce tried to explain psychology and some of the breakthroughs since the 40s and Tony made sarcastic comments which started another argument between them. 

He moves the chair to angle it toward Bucky. His hand hovers over Bucky's thigh, before he pulls away. "I didn't mean that you don't have to deal with what happened. I just meant that dealing with it doesn't mean that you are guilty of something. Bruce talked about PTSD and Stockholm Syndrome, fancy words for soldiers who saw combat or were held captives. If you need to deal with this, see doctors, use S.H.I.E.LD., do whatever you need, and I will be there for you, but don't ask me to believe that you would have done any of that if you hadn't been brainwashed. You wouldn't have, just like I believe completely that you will do the right thing despite the memories, not because it's easy, or because those memories don't have an impact, but because you are that strong. I don't need doctors or the world to tell me who Bucky Barnes is because I know it, better than you know yourself."

"Ask you to- Is that what-," Bucky splutters, knocked off his feet -- if he were standing -- by the very idea! "You really think that's what I've been trying to argue this whole time? That I would have done those things even without the Russians turning my brain into a scrambled egg?! How much of an idiot do you take me for?!"

He gives into the desire that's been ever present since their first conversation about this and bends over to smack his forehead repeatedly against the table. "I know if I'd been left to myself I never would have become an assassin or a spy or done any of those things. Just because I don't think I was ever a particularly good person, it doesn't mean I think I was always a murderer. But, whether or not I would have done it without that influence, the man who did those things under that influence isn't gone. I got my memories back, but he didn't go away. He's still a part of me and he always will be, now. That's all I've been trying to say.

"And you're a fine one to talk about guilt, blaming yourself for my falling off the train when it was no fault but gravity and dumb luck. Too many of Dum Dum's dumplings, probably."

"But that's where we disagree," Steve interjects. "Not as loudly as when Tony and I disagree. I think the memories are part of you, but _he_ isn't part of you," he says, not sure why he's starting another round, but he can't let it go. "I think, you, James Bucky Barnes need to come to term with the fact that you were used to do all of these things, just as much as you need to come to terms that you didn't do them, so yes, the memories will always be part of you, but they can't change who you are in here," Steve says, pressing a hand against Bucky's heart. One good thing that came out from going over to Stark's tower is that now Steve has the 21st century terminology to go with his convictions. "You were a victim as much as those you killed."

He leaned in and kissed Bucky softly, then smiled. "That's why you don't need to prove anything, make up for anything or convince me of anything."

"Steve..." Bucky sighs. He seems to be doing that a lot lately, sighing out Steve's name. " _He_ isn't a separate person. I _have_ changed. Because of those memories. We are our memories, Steve. Really, if anything, that should be the lesson of this whole experience. My memories were wiped away, replaced, and behaved like a different person. I'm not saying I'm a killer now or that I'm going to make my career as a wetworks operative. But, being the Winter Soldier, even under duress, has changed me."

He places his hand over Steve's on his chest and squeezes gently. "I just wish you could accept the changed me as readily as you seem to be able to accept that Stark's a pompous ass who means well."

"Because I can't let you do that to yourself." In the end, it's not about Steve or what he believes anyway, but the responsibility and guilt Bucky carries. "I understand that those memories will have an impact on you, but we're not our memories, we are our choices Tony chooses to be a pompous ass. He likes and enjoys it. You're choosing to beat yourself up for choices that aren't yours. That's where my problem is."

Steve sighs because this is round 'too many to count', and he is getting tired of going over the same thing. Bruce compared Bucky to a rape victim, but Steve doesn't want to bring up that comparison, even if it's the best suited for the occasion. "Tell me how you've changed," he says instead. "You say I can't see this new you, then tell me how you're different from the person I knew."

"I spent the first meal we ate together after my memories returned listing in my head all the ways I could kill you with the items on the table, even the food," Bucky replies evenly. "When I'm around town and something modern annoys me, I find myself cursing Americans for spreading Western ideals...in Russian. I'm far less likely to give someone a chance in a fight than I used to be. I'm going to put them down hard and fast and part of me really doesn't care if they survive it. I memorize everything now, randomly as I see it, keystrokes, pass codes, combinations, steps needed to reach an exit. Just in case I have to break out or in. When I meet someone new, I find myself ranking them on the likelihood I was supposed to kill them at some point. And then follow that with an assessment of how easy they'd be to take down. I can barely take a shower without having a panic attack because the feel of water on my face is too close to the faint sensations of being submerged in the stasis tank just before total consciousness is gone. When I flirt with someone now, it's not because I think they're cute or just because. It's because being charming will get me what I want and flirtatious behavior is a distraction that allows me to draw attention away from other things. I've found myself clenching my teeth while watching a game because hearing The Star Spangled Banner makes me want to put my fist through the television. You want me to go on?"

"Do you still think about all the ways you can kill me?" Steve asks because regardless what any of them think, he sees a lot more clearly that they assume. He can distinguish between habits that the soldier has learned and who a person is at his core. "Is that what you were doing through dinner?"

"Not usually, no. But, occasionally. Tonight I was actually wondering if it would be kinder to you if I left, moved out, so you didn't have to deal with this." Well, more so that he wouldn't be taunting his friend with something, someone, he couldn't have, if they couldn't work through this. But, Steve didn't need to hear that.

"The thing is, you say I'm choosing to beat myself up. But, I'm not. I'm choosing to take responsibility for what was done with my body. Do you remember the little girl whose father I killed in front of her? It's not some faceless, nameless murder that haunts her nightmares. It's me. It's my face. Saying it wasn't me doesn't change what she saw, it doesn't bring her father back. All it does is make excuses for what she suffered at my hand. I can't help what was done, but I can try to make up for it."

Steve gets up because he can't do this again, and he can't let it be the reason Bucky leaves. "All right, let's see if we can break it down a little. Will you have memories that haunt you? Yes. Will that affect how you think? Yes. Will that girl have to deal with the death of her father? Yes. Are you to blame for the death of her father?" He grips the back of his chair and stares at Bucky. "No. The people who sent you to kill him are to blame. It doesn't matter that you're the one who pulled the trigger. You're still not legally, and yes I've had Tony look into it, medically according to Bruce, ethically or religiously according to any priest you want to talk to. Do you want to make the world a better place to make up what they have done? That's great, but it's not penitence. It's being a good person."

"You know, that girl is probably a grandmother by now." Bucky's tone is light, conversational, and he's smiling just a little. Frustrating as the conversation always is, he can't help but feel warmed by the fact Steve has apparently spent so much time looking into every angle.

Getting up, he moves to sit in Steve's chair, straddling it backwards so he's facing his friend directly. "You're not ever going to let that go, are you? I've always been fine with not being a good person. I was just an average guy whose best friend was the good one." He places his hands to either side of Steve's on the back of the chair, but there isn't much room and his hands are half on top of Steve's. "You really can't see past the good in people, can you? And you wonder why I don't feel like I deserve this kind of faith and loyalty?"

There's no accusation there, just...awe...because Bucky has never felt this kind of conviction for anything or anyone, except maybe Steve himself.

One hand slides over Bucky's arm and shoulder and Steve's fingers curl around the back of Bucky's neck. "How many times did they refuse me for the Army? And yet, who got enlisted in the end?" He shakes his head. "I never give up when I believe in something or someone."

Maybe this is what he's been doing wrong. He's been talking too much and not acting enough. "Get up," he says, pulling on Bucky's hand, and at that moment, he realizes that he touches both arms without even thinking, that to him, this arm is as much part of Bucky as the rest. Just another way that he sees Bucky differently. "Come with me."

He's already kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt off as he walks backwards toward the bathroom. When there, he reaches for the knobs and turns the water of the tub on. He thinks for a moment, and then drops his pants too, leaving him in his white cotton underwear. He steps under the water and stretches an arm in Bucky's direction. "Trust me," he says, but it sounds slightly like a question.

Bucky swallows hard before nodding, but it's only partly from the trepidation the water causes. A large part is the fact that, while he might not have noticed before, too concerned with the fact they turned his best friend into a lab rat and then a figurehead, he can't help noticing the near perfection of Steve's body now that he's stripping in front of him.

He peels his shirt off slowly, watching the water and the man in it. His boots and socks take a little more time because of the laces up his ankles. His jeans follow, then his underwear because Bucky hasn't really gotten around to buying much of anything in the way of clothing and walking around with wet underwear later would be uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, it's not the proximity to Steve that has Bucky's heart racing as he takes his friend's hand and steps under the spray. His body goes suddenly ice cold, phantom pain radiating from where he can remember tubes being inserted. "Steve-"

Steve moves them so he's taking the brunt of the water. He brings Bucky's hand to his heaving chest. "I'm right here. Breathe with me. Everything is going to be fine, because we'll deal with this together." If they have to shower together, it's not like it's a great imposition. Not that Steve is looking anywhere but Bucky's face, because it wouldn't be right. "We'll go to games together, we'll stand up and sing the anthem together, we'll spar together when you feel restless, we'll dream together, and yes, we'll shower together until those things are just faded memories, just a part of you that doesn't have any bearing on what you do, but until you get there, I'll be standing next to you."

Breathing isn't easy, as Bucky forces himself to look up, to focus on Steve's eyes, his voice. He hates showing weakness like this, but he can't help it. His body seems to have given up on letting his mind tell it what to do. He focuses on Steve's voice, the cadence of it, the rise and fall of his chest under Bucky's hand. He tries to push aside the memories of suffocating cold and darkness.

Bringing his other hand up to rest on Steve's shoulder, added support he'd never ask for with words, he takes a deep breath, then a second, trying to slow down his heart, matching their breathing like he'd done for Steve when they were kids and his friend was caught in the grip of an asthma attack during a time when they couldn't afford his medicine. In a way, they seem to have come full circle.

"You shouldn't have to do any of that."

They keep getting closer. Steve puts his arm around Bucky and moves even closer until their hands are trapped between them. "You shouldn't have had to take care of me when we were kids. In a perfect world, we would have had loving parents, wonderful childhood, find a wife, have children and grow old and die. This isn't a perfect world. We might not have had any of those normal things, but we've had each other. We shouldn't have done a lot of things, but we've done them, because we're friends, best friends, and family all wrapped in one. The war ended in forty-five and we're still here, doing what comes natural."

Steve moves back just slightly. He takes the time to really watch his friend with an artist's eye. Bucky was never handsome in a classic way. His jaw is too strong, his lips too thin, his smile a little uneven and yet when you move back and take everything in, he's handsome in his own way. "I've never drawn your face." It's coming out of nowhere, and he knows that he's probably confusing Bucky. "I never needed to. I've carried you with me since they woke me up to fill a hole inside me. I need to do all of that, because I can't imagine not helping, and I know you'd do the same if our situations were reversed."

No one, but no one, has ever said anything like that about him and Bucky's really not sure he isn't just imagining it now. It's been hard enough trying to wrap his mind around the fact Steve's been stuck on him for so long. But, to say Bucky filled up the empty places?

"Alright," he says finally, realizing he's been staring at Steve like some star struck kid for too long. "I can't fight you on this anymore. I don't want to. It will probably be awhile before I can see things your way. But, I'll try."

Lifting his hand off Steve's shoulder, he trails the pad of his thumb over Steve's cheekbone, then softly down his cheek, along his jaw. "I need you to do something for me, though. I need you to stop blaming yourself for the fall from that train. You might have only mentioned it once, but I know you. You've thought it a thousand times a day since it happened. But, since I'm the one who suffered for it and I don't blame you one iota, you shouldn't blame yourself, either. Especially since I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it was to protect you. All of it. The fall, the brainwashing, the killing...I'd do it all again if I had to in order to protect you and gladly. So, can you do that much for me? Stop blaming yourself for something _you_ had no control over and bear no fault in?"

"Not a thousand times a day." It's not a lie, but not the truth either, and he smiles a little. "Too busy during the day; usually at night." Steve doesn't make promises that he has no intention of keeping or knows he can't keep. It takes his time now. "I promise you that I'll try. I need time too. I need to see you here and safe, or as safe as we usually are."

The passage of time has never been more clear than it is right now. The water still warm falls around them and shows no sign of getting colder. They could stay here forever, but he's made his point. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Yeah, I do. Please." Bucky nods, but doesn't move quite yet. He smirks wickedly up at Steve when he speaks again. "And I really want to know what parts of me you _have_ drawn if not this gorgeous mug."

Steve laughed. "You still focus on the very important things." He shrugs, though, because he's not embarrassed. It's not like they don't both know that he's spent plenty of nights in Bucky's room. "I'll show you. After we pick up all the clothes." It's bad enough that the plates are still on the table and water is spraying everywhere. Steve would be restless if there were clothes on the floor as well.

He reaches behind him and turns the water off. "Come on, time to dry up."

"This is why the orphanage ladies loved you," Bucky teased. Grabbing the nearest towel he can get his hands on, he grins. "Let me."

With long strokes, he wipes the water from Steve's chest and arms. He bends to carefully run the cloth along Steve's legs without dragging it on the wet floor of the tub. Then, standing, he drapes the towel around Steve's shoulders and uses his grip on the edges to pull his friend in closer for a soft kiss that comes far more naturally now than it has any right to do. "I focus on the _most_ important things."

Steve has been the good man that he is, never letting the hugs become inappropriate, keeping just the right amount of distance. He's never looked down once, not that he's never seen men naked, because he was in the army after all, but this is different. He's really trying to give Bucky the space he needs, but Bucky is making it very difficult.

It only takes a kiss, gentle and familiar, and Steve is wrapping his arms around his friend. He sighs happily against Bucky's lips. "We're not picking up those clothes, are we?" 

Bucky's getting far too used to having Steve's arms around him far too quickly. But, he seems to be incorrigibly incapable of backing away now. "Tell you what. We can move the piles to our respective rooms, then you can get your sketchbook and bring it to mine because I do really want to see your sketches."

"This is going to require actual movement," Steve says, before they have made no move to get out of the tub. In anything, they are even closer than before. He laughs to himself, and finally lets go so that he can get out of the tub. He's careful not to look at Bucky while he collects his clothes and brings them to his room. He changes into dry underwear and puts his jeans on, before going to Bucky's room.

He stops at the door, not sure where to look. Bucky is on the bed, naked, and the angle is all wrong for Steve to look at his face without seeing the rest. "I have the sketches." He waves the sketch book in a way that obscures the visual a little. 

Once again movement is required, and Steve drags himself inside, tosses the book on the bed and then takes a seat on the chair he always uses when the nightmares wake him up. "You were asleep," he said, a little embarrassed by the number of drawings, all in that bed, that he's collected in such a short time.

Bucky hides his amusement by opening the sketchbook and holding it up so he can see. Soon enough, however, he's rolling over onto his stomach and laying the book flat on the bed. He's known Steve wound up in his room most nights. But, he hasn't understood just how much time Steve has spent watching over him until he sees it in black and white. Literally.

There are pages and pages filled with him as Steve sees him, all long lines and firm muscles. Tracing his finger reverently over the curved lines of his own back, Bucky wonders if Steve was imagining the feel of his skin as he carefully used his fingers to smudge in the contours of muscle and bone. Steve's always been good. Even Bucky, who had no sense of culture, could see that. But, there's something different in these sketches, something raw.

He has to clear his throat to make his voice work. "Come here." Bucky looks over to where Steve's sitting much too far away. "Come sit here. Please?"

Steve doesn't wait to be asked twice and he moves to the bed. He lies down, mirroring Bucky's position. The coldness of the metal is becoming as familiar as the warmth that comes from Bucky. His eyes go from the pad to Bucky. "I shouldn't have come here, but I couldn't leave you alone."

He shifts so that he's mostly on his side. His fingers run through Bucky's hair. "You still haven't gotten a haircut. When you sleep, it's all over your face."

Steve, Bucky decides, is completely oblivious to the obvious cues. It's a bit endearing even while it's frustrating. But, Bucky's all talked out and if he lets himself be any more vulnerable tonight he'll never be able to look at himself in a mirror again.

Instead, he takes advantage of the fact Steve's hand is already reaching for him to pull his friend over to where he wants him. With one hand tugging on Steve's shoulder and one cupping the back of Steve's head, Bucky rolls and squirms until he's on his back with Steve half over him in the perfect position to be dragged down into a hard, impatient kiss. "Steve, when a naked man wants you to sit on the bed with him, it's not to hear you apologize for being in his room."

Until two seconds ago, Steve was sure that Bucky wanted space, which he was willing to give. Now, he needs to reconsider his assumption, but he's a strategist and he can change plans as needed. "I didn't know there was an etiquette about this. I never needed to know since I've never considered being in a bed with a naked man that isn't you," he said, smiling.

He leans down and kisses Bucky again, but the kisses are as different as their personality. Bucky's kisses are going full speed and holding nothing back, a frontal assault that speaks of dominance. Steve's kisses are slow and thorough, sweet as melted chocolate, and yet with a persistence meant to convince you to surrender.

Steve has no comparison. There was Peggy, but one kiss before death is hardly enough to judge. He's kind of glad, because he can't imagine that it could feel so right with anyone else, and he keeps kissing Bucky, their lips chasing each other with small nips until it becomes too much and he needs to breathe again. "Is this a better response?"

"Much better." Bucky's used to taking the lead. And, though Bucky's never been with a man before, considering Steve's total inexperience, he figures he'll have to take that lead here, too. But, Steve's also the only person Bucky has ever wanted to give up that control to, can see himself surrendering everything.

With the fingers of his left hand tangled in Steve's hair, he slides his right up and over one broad shoulder, fingers dragging slightly along smooth skin. Catching Steve's lower lip, he sucks on it briefly before kissing him again and again. "We do this as fast or slow as you want," he says between kisses, surprised at the rough quality of his own voice. "You only get the first time once."

It's as sappy and romantic as Bucky's ever been about sex, which isn't saying much. But, this is Steve and, while there's no flowers or candlelight, he can give Steve that much.

There are too many answers in Steve's head and nothing really conveys what how he feels. He pushes Bucky's hair back and kisses him, because kissing Bucky is addictive. "It's you. I couldn't possibly want a better first time." It's corny, but it's true. He never planned for things to go this way, but now that they have, he knows that it's right.

He's considering what else to say, and realizes that he's been silent too long. He shakes his head, and pulls away, going to his knees to take off his jeans and underwear, because tonight is proving that action can be as good as words. He even resists the urge to fold them and put them the chair, because Bucky might interpret it as stalling. He might be partially right.

When he lies back down, all those documentaries the Army showed non stop during the war about condoms come back to him. It wasn't like he needed to pay attention to them, but Steve felt guilty not paying attention, so he knows more about condoms and STDs that people would think. Some of it is probably outdated, but the basics should still work. None of it changes the fact that he doesn't have one. "I don't have protection. I mean super soldier serum, so we probably don't need it, but-" He's still a gentleman to the core and he would never push anyone to do anything they aren't comfortable with. "And if it's not a problem, we go as fast or as slow as it feels right."

"We don't need it. I don't want it. I want to feel you, just you, Steve." Pressing his body fully up against Steve's once more, Bucky starts pressing a line of small, sucking kisses along the soft, warm skin just beneath Steve's jaw until he reaches that place just behind the ear that he knows is sensitive. He'd been an affectionate kid, free with his hugs and friendly claps on the back. The war and then time spent as the Winter Soldier had changed all that. But, here with Steve, Bucky's rediscovering the simple pleasure of soft touches and gentle kisses, warm looks that threaten to ignite emotions he's almost forgotten he's allowed to feel.

His palms are flat against Steve's chest, stroking slowly over impossible perfectly-sculpted muscles, memorizing the contours and the smoothness of Steve's skin. He raises his leg, caressing Steve's side with his thigh before running his foot along the back of his calf. " _This_ feels right," he murmurs against Steve's ear. "Us, together. I want to take my time with you, show you everything and watch as you discover the things you like, the things that make you squirm and go breathless with desire."

The words are sentimental and cliched, but he can't seem to help himself. He opens his mouth and out the sentiment comes, all the things he never would have thought of saying before and which seem so damned natural with Steve. Bucky wants to give Steve all those stupidly sappy things he knows makes the other man smile, just so he can see that smile. Pulling back just enough, he captures Steve's lips once more, tongue flicking lightly between them in invitation.

Steve does smile, and it's big and open, because everything that Bucky has just said put things into perspective, and he knows what he's doing wrong. He was thinking of sex like another problem to be solved, some kind of test he needed to pass, but that's stupid, because it feels best when he's not thinking. At least too much. Bucky's touches make not thinking really easy.

"I think we've taken more than enough time." He sounds breathless to his own ears. His body feels on fire, though; every touch is making him feel things he never experienced before.

Hesitation isn't in his nature, and now that they are finally on the same page, he can move forward. His hand moves over Bucky's check, almost in twin movements with Bucky's own hand, but then he changes the script and moves up where metal and flesh join, traces that edge and then his hand moves down the arm while he leans down and kissed warm skin. Being a virgin doesn't mean that Steve has never gotten off. If anything, celibacy has made him an expert on what feels good, because he has spent time discovering what his body liked. He wants to know if Bucky likes the same things.

His fingers rub Bucky's nipple and he might be smiling as he hears the reactions he gets, because he's totally doing this to Bucky Ladies' Man Barnes. He also gets creative, using tongue and teeth to cover every inch of Bucky's chest, until he's on his four, between Bucky's legs and staring down at his erection. He closes his fingers around it, with an inquisitive look on his face. It doesn't really feel much different than his, not sure why he thought it would. Then without thinking, he dips his head and licks it while his fingers are still wrapped at the base. Okay, so cock tastes pretty much all the same too, which he knows from spitting and licking his palm a little too many times. It's enough to make him push forward, lips sliding down Bucky's cock and then back up. He does it a few times before pulling up. "Good?" It must be from the reaction he's getting, but Steve still likes to check.

Fantastic.

That's the word Bucky's trying to say. But, his virginal best friend who couldn't even look at his naked body fifteen minutes ago has just had Bucky's cock in his mouth, short-circuiting enough brain cells that what comes out of Bucky's mouth sounds closer to "F'ntah!" as he groans with the loss of that hot, wet, perfection.

Looking down his body toward Steve, Bucky's half-convinced he could come right then just from the picture Steve makes, bent over with his hand on Bucky's cock and his lips gone red and swollen from kissing and sucking. Bucky reaches down to run two fingers wonderingly over Steve's lips. If he didn't know better, he'd be intent on finding out which man he had to kill for teaching Steve how to do that.

"Gimme your other hand."

Steve doesn't listen, not when Bucky's fingers are on his lips. He nips the fingertips, before suck on them. He closes his eyes as he focuses on the different taste. He plans to taste every part of Bucky's body before this is over.

He thinks Bucky asks for his hand again or his brain is working on slow motion. Either option is possible. It's even clearer when for a moment he can't figure out how to do that when one hand is around Bucky's cock and he's using the other for balance. Yes, Captain America, great soldier and strategist, needs a moment to figure out that he can change position, rocking back to his heels so that he can give Bucky his free hand.

Steve is going to kill him, Bucky thinks. That's all there is to it. By the time he's recovered from the almost electric jolt that passes from his fingers, trapped between those sinful lips, down his spine to his cock, twitching in Steve's surprisingly sure grasp, he's forgotten the reason he asked for the hand now being offered.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" he asks hoarsely, taking Steve's hand and placing it firmly upon his own hip. "Not what the serum created, _you_ as you always were." Bucky's seeing a lot of things from the past differently now. He's still not sure if these feelings for Steve were always there, or are something new for this time where their need for each other has changed. He doesn't care.

"Wanna feel that strength of yours, Steve." He entwines their fingers on his hip, though he's only partially talking about the physical strength he's imagining holding him down. Bucky has no idea who's leading anymore. Maybe both of them and neither. It doesn't matter. "Please. I need your strength. I need to feel."

Steve doesn't know what to say to any of that. Gorgeous was never a description used for him before the serum, and feeling his strength sounds strange when he is doing his best not to put any of his weight on Bucky.

He stretches up, letting go of Bucky's cock and planting his hand flat next to Bucky's face. His grip tightens around Bucky's hip as he holds himself up. "Are you sure? I'll give you anything you want, but …" He doesn't say that he doesn't want to hurt Bucky. "Is it what you want?"

"I want all of you." Bucky's eyelids flutter and he moans softly, savoring the firmer grip on his hip. "Every part."

Grinning, he leans up and kisses him. "I mean, don't break bones or anything. But, yeah, I want you to use as much of your strength as you feel comfortable with to hold onto me." His expression softens and he cups Steve's cheek with his palm. "Hold onto me, Steve."

Steve looks at Bucky slightly terrified, which is not a look that's customary for him. He hadn't even considered that he could do any real damage. "I'm not going to break bones," he said, a little indignant, too. "I can't, can I? I mean not bones. I can't break anything, right?" Now, he almost wishes that he hadn't walked off when Tony tried to talk to him about sex and the modern era, but then it's not like there's a section on men with the super soldier serum.

He decides that he's not breaking anything, because he's a lot more careful than that. "You're going to pay for that," he says with a grin.

He lowers himself, still holding most of his weight on his one hand. He looks at Bucky again, and this time doesn't quite ask except with his eyes, before resting on Bucky. Their bodies align like they are meant to be together, and for the first time his crotches touch. Steve thinks that he might be the one suffering from this, because he's pretty sure his brain has exploded.

"Gosh…" He can't even come up with words to express how good this feels and the ones he can think of aren't words he'd say aloud. He decided that kissing his a very good alternative to talking.

Bucky's hands find their way into Steve's hair, holding him in place as they kiss. The sudden friction as their bodies suddenly meet combined with the comforting, solid weight of _Steve_ drags up a groan that's lost in the kisses. His movement is limited, but Bucky can't help the way his body moves shallowly against Steve's, rubbing skin against skin.

"Fuck." Bucky, of course, had picked up all the bad habits in the Army Steve never had. Unable to resist the opportunity, he worms his right hand between them, taking both their erections in hand as best he can. "Want. You. So. Much." he mutters between kisses.

"Not going to happen if you keep doing that," he pants out. Steve hasn't waited for this, because that would mean that he had known, but now that it's happening, he wants it so badly that he doesn't know where to start. He wants everything and now, and just doesn't seem to know how to get there, but he knows that the frictions of their cocks in Bucky's hand will bring this to a close before they get to the main event. 

"How do I do this?" he finally asks. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I've never done this with a man," Bucky admits breathlessly, letting go with reluctance. "Soviet Russia wasn't a great place to experiment, even if I'd wanted to." He cringes at the poor choice of words, but moves on.

He's never done _this_ with a woman, either. And, if he had any capacity for such thoughts left, he'd be laughing his ass off over the two of them, with little enough experience between them, trying to figure this out. But, it's Steve and it's Bucky and somehow, when they put the two of them together, they always find a way to make it work. So, all Bucky's thinking about now is how good it's going to feel once they do.

And it can't really be that different from preparing a woman, can it? "Try using your fingers. It's easier to get used at first, work your way up."

Steve lowers his head, chin tucked against his chest. He's not hiding or blushing, but laughing, because this is too funny. He finally looks up. "You know, maybe I should have stayed when Tony decided that he was going to tell me all about sex," he says, barely containing his laughter.

He nips Bucky's lip, grinning. "You were so smooth with girls. I thought you did everything and then some. Then I wake up in this time, and I never gave it a lot of thought, but compared to these people, you were almost reserved." He leans down and kisses Bucky, slower this time, because he knows that works for both of them. 

"I like this better," he murmurs. "I like that we're doing things together, experimenting together. I like to kiss you and touch you." He reached between them and closed his hand around their cocks. "We're not in a rush, are we? Because I plan to do this for a long time. As you said, we can work our way up. This," he said with a twist of his hand while his eyes never leave Bucky's face. "This, you and me, this is what matters. The how isn't as important."

"Always comes back to this, doesn't it?" Bucky slides his hand between them, joining Steve's around their cocks. They're mixing awkwardness and jokes and sweetness into the strangest romantic moment he's never imagined. But, it works for them and it's so easy and natural now... Maybe Steve had been right and Bucky's been too afraid of having something to lose again to risk this. "Me and you."

He kisses Steve again, softer and sweeter than he's ever kissed anyone before. A soft moan escapes with the kiss because Steve's right in a way. The how doesn't matter, but Steve touching him like this feels _so_ good. "I'm sorry I've been fighting this so long."

Steve shakes his head. "You needed time." He understands that, but it's not what he wants to discuss now and he ends the conversation with another kiss, while his hand moves faster. He feels the precome from both of them, rubs his thumb over the moisture, mixing it over their cocks.

"Bucky." He says it so softly that it's almost a prayer whispered against Bucky's lips. "Me and you. I love you so much." They are sentences strung together by intimacy, kisses and harsh breaths. "Not letting you go this time." He would fight to hold on to Bucky, literally and metaphorically. 

"Never have," Bucky murmurs. "You never have." Bucky was the one who let go, whether he wanted to or not. But, it doesn't matter anymore. Somehow, they're here, together again. That's all that matters.

His hand moving in time with Steve's, words are becoming more difficult to form as they push each other closer and closer to the edge. Kisses are less finesse and more simple need for connection, open mouths pressed together, lips moving over skin. "Fuck. Steve...Steve..."

Eyes closing from the force of pleasure coursing through him, he comes with a whimper, the hand still in Steve's hair tightening as though to keep his friend -- and lover -- from disappearing just yet.

Steve watches mesmerized. He's never seen Bucky looking so at peace, even if it's just for a few moments, and he promises himself that he'd make Bucky feel this good as often as possible. There might have been more thoughts, but he's been holding off, not even sure of the reason and now that he has his answer, he can finally let go.

He jerks himself off as he stares down, and when he can feel his orgasm nearing, he kisses Bucky again. His entire body shakes as he spills between their bodies, and then collapses on Bucky just as soon as he takes his hand away. 

"That might just be the best thing we've ever done together," he said, smiling. "Although there was that time we got to see the Dodgers…." He trails off as he raises his head. He's grinning, because even the Dodgers couldn't beat this. "You okay? Do you want me to move?"

"Don't move, yet." He's still trying to catch his breath, but Bucky laughs loudly. "I can't believe you still remember that game. Felt like ages ago even before. You know what I remember? Praying I didn't finally scrape together enough spare change to take you to a game only to have the Dodgers lose. I probably could have kissed Reiser when he hit that grand slam bottom of the sixth. You were grinning like this a little then, too." The fact he still remembers those details himself belies his own statement of disbelief. But, oh well.

Matching the grin, he nips at Steve's lower lip. It's too tempting to resist, all plump and moist. "Might rather kiss you, though. You okay with that?"

"I'm very okay, although I might wonder about your mental state if you think I wouldn't remember that game," he says. "I know how much it cost to get us there. It was a pretty good moment. This is still better," he says before kissing him again. They might just do this forever.

Steve nods. "We can stay here and kiss. Until, I have to go and clear out the table, because I'm not sharing the apartment with mice and cockroaches," he says, chuckling. He'll leave the bathroom for the morning. "Kissing sounds very good." He decided to stop talking and start kissing.

* * *

It is a typical New York summer day at Citi Field. The sun is shining, the humidity is unbearable, the Mets are winning (maybe that's not typical), and Steve couldn't imagine a better way to spend the afternoon. There was a moment during the anthem when he worried. He put a hand on his chest and one on Buckys' shoulder. Anyone watching would think of two soldiers who fought together. They wouldn't be wrong. After that, everything went fine.

Steve sits down after a food run. He's got burgers, fries, and burgers. He'll go for a second run soon enough, because he wants ice cream from Carvel. "I think food costs as much as rent," he says as he sits down. He passes a burger to Bucky, leaving the beers on the floor, using their own bodies as shade. "We could have never afforded the Dodgers with today's prices." He doesn't even want to think how much their prime seats cost. He has season passes and the team arranged for Bucky to get the seat next to him for the day.

"Yeah, I don't want to know how much this cost." Bucky grins and shakes his head before taking a large bite out of his burger.

Once they got past the moment of tension with the anthem, he was able to mostly relax. This is possibly the most crowded space he's been in since Steve has given him his memories back. But, except when Steve is on the food runs, he's surprisingly okay. At least, Steve keeps him too distracted to be worrying overly much about exit points and sightlines. He's still thinking about those things in the back of his mind. He's just more focused on the almost normality of being here with his best friend.

"You know, I've never asked. But, how _do_ you make money these days?" Bucky hasn't thought about it because there's the Avengers, but that isn't really a paying job, he doesn't think. And he knows Steve doesn't work for S.H.I.E.L.D. It hasn't really been important before with everything else they've been dealing with between his nightmares and a new arm and the changes in their relationship. But, now Bucky's curious.

"Honestly? I don't know. Tony mostly talked about trademarking toys and cards and lunch boxes," he says with a shrug. "When I woke up, S.H.I.E.L.D. paid for the apartment, some back pay, and then I meet Tony and he decided that he would become my personal financial advisor. He doesn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. or Fury, which is why he's doing it. It's also why he's pushing the idea of moving into his tower."

He looks out as the pitcher throws a perfect curveball. "He brought it up again, before the last fight, during the last fight, after the last fight. It makes sense, and he won't charge me rent, not that it matters, because trademarking Captain America is making me a fortune or so he says. He showed me a bank account with enough zeros to confuses me, but with Tony, you never know what's real and what he's putting there so I don't worry about it. He hasn't figure out that I need a small fraction of what's in that account. Also people give me free things, like the tickets. It's good publicity for them according to Tony and the way things work now. You have to see the invitations I get. Why would they want Captain America at an Armani opening? And yet, I got one. Didn't go," he says, shaking his head.

"Anyway, we don't have to worry about money. I'll get you a card from the account." Steve doesn't even feel like it's his account anyway.

"You can't figure that out?" Bucky shakes his head. "It's the same reason they wanted you selling war bonds, pal. If Captain America shows up to the event, preferably wearing an actual Armani suit, more people will be interested in buying them just to say they wear the same clothes you do." Pausing long enough to take another bite out of his burger, Bucky shrugs. "Everyone wants to be like you, even just a little bit. I get that. I mean, I always have, too."

Steve's always been the epitome of good in Bucky's eyes, the one that inspires him to be a better man, which is why his eyebrows drawing together as he frowns. "And I can't just live off you, Steve. Even if we're...you know...I can't just...mooch off you the rest of our lives. It's not right. And I can't have a card in my name, anyway."

"But it's not bonds. I'm not selling anything for the country. I'm just… I don't even know for sure how it works. I just know that I've seen things with my image, and I get money out of it." He frowned. "Who's Armani? And why am I wearing his suits?" He liked his khakis and shirts so much better. "It still seems wrong to make money off of the uniform. I wouldn't be here with the serum."

Steve nudges Bucky's shoulder with his. "I wouldn't be who I am without you. You're not mooching off me. We're both using money from the same account that Tony has created. I wouldn't have had anything if it weren't for him. So if you owe someone, it's him." He grinned. "And you can get a card in any name. As long as I'm still responsible, you can have one under the name of Billy Herman. Or you know, just James Barnes will do."

"Billy Herman, huh? I could live with that. But, not James Barnes." They're too exposed for this conversation and it's starting to make Bucky nervous. Despite his memories starting to settle, there's too much of the Soldier's instincts left in him to feel comfortable talking about it surrounded by a few thousand baseball fans. "Let's discuss it later, huh? At home?"

"And you would be who you are if we'd never met because that's who you were born to be," he says sternly, by way of changing the subject back to something less potentially classified. "I didn't do anything but keep you from getting killed before you could go do something _really_ stupid like sign up to be some guy's lab rat just so you could follow me into a war I didn't want you involved with in the first place." His hand absently goes to rub his chest where he used to have dog tags. But those are long gone along with the decades and what little innocence he'd still had for the Department to take. Looking up at Steve again, he smiles softly. "Kind of glad you did, though."

Bucky grins. "Even if Stark's obviously failed at teaching you anything about clothing designers these days. Like Armani, who makes very nice, very expensive, suits that he wants you to wear so other people will see you in them and want to wear, too."

"Nothing to discuss. Pick a name, I'll order the card. No one checks for ID here. Only once someone commented on my name, which according to you and Tony is so famous. Kid says without raising his head from the cash register that my name is like Captain America's. I tell him that some people think I look like him. He finally looks at me, stares for a moment and then says 'too bad you're too short to be him or you'd totally fool people'." Steve chuckles. "See, nothing to worry about."

Steve claps Bucky's thigh before picking up his beer. He won't really get drunk, but he likes the taste. It makes him feel just like everyone else. "I was where I was supposed to be," he says softly, eyes on the game. "I wouldn't have been there if you hadn't kept me alive. I was thinking about Tony's offer, wondering why I was fighting him when it made sense, strategically and financially. I should have accepted the first time he asked, but I always felt that I needed to be in Brooklyn, I needed a link to...not the past, but who I am. It's why I own a radio and not a TV, why I still shop at the mom-and- pop stores. It's part of who I was." He turns his head and stared at Bucky again. "I don't need Brooklyn anymore. Home is wherever we are, me and you, and the tower is safer. What do you think?"

"Mooching off you isn't enough? Now you want me to mooch off Stark?" Bucky teases.

But, he's staring back, both hands holding his burger because otherwise he might pull Steve into a kiss right there and he doesn't think that's the way Captain America should come out, if he even has to. Way back when, before the war, that sentiment was a given in a way because they were all each other had. Steve has friends and a team here, other people in his life besides Bucky. He has choices and he's still picking Bucky. That...means something, something that wouldn't hit Bucky in the gut so much if he weren't so intimately familiar with what not meaning something to anyone feels like.

"I go where you go. It doesn't much matter where that is. Might take some getting used to, having people around."

"Same goes for me," Steve says. "Pretty much everything you said applies to me," he repeats when it sinks in just how similar they are. "It'll get him to back off and it makes sense." He's still trying to convince himself, though. "You know what? We'll keep the apartment for now and have a trial run. If Tony overrides whatever security there is one too many times, then we move back." He knows Tony too well to think that it won't happen at all. He should be more afraid of what might happen, but one look at Bucky and he knows that he won't care if Tony finds out. He's made his choice and Steve doesn't hide, because he's not doing anything wrong. "I guess we can enjoy the game."

* * *

Between the two of them, they have four duffel bags when they arrive to their new apartment. Tony said that he'd taken care of the furniture. Steve should have known that everything would look almost sterile, in that modern style that Tony prefers. Still, it means that his mismatched furniture can stay in the apartment in Brooklyn, just in case this doesn't work out.

"This is going to be the fastest move in history," he says with a chuckle. "Which bedroom do you want?"

"It's going to take longer to pick a room than it will to unpack," Bucky agrees with a laugh. He wonders if people are really meant to live here, though. It looks like some interior decorator's interpretation of one of Steve's blank sketchbooks. Too cold and empty.

He takes his time going through the rooms, learning the strengths and weaknesses of each, before making his decision. In the end, he stands in the doorway of the one with the most sight lines, which is also slightly smaller. It's not like he really needs the space. And if he has this many sight lines, so would any outside sniper, which means he definitely doesn't want Steve in this one. "This is fine for me. You'll appreciate the view from the other one more than I will, anyway."

Steve snorts. "I didn't think picking a room would take so much time. Pick one and we both stay in the master room. It's not like we don't end up in the same bed anyway." In the end, it doesn't really matter, but he goes to the master room and puts his duffel bags on the bed. Everything is neatly folded and goes from the bags to the drawers. Toiletries go into the bathroom He puts his shoes and the empty duffel bags in the closet. Eventually, he'll buy more things, mostly because Tony insists, but he'll fight him tooth and nail.

He goes to Bucky's room and he's done as well. "We've officially moved into Tony's tower. You know what the next question is going to be." It was a question that Tony and Bruce had both asked, but Steve has told them to back off. Even he's not naive enough to think that they will when they live in the same building. "Have you made a decision or should I ask them to spar every time they bring it up?"

"Yes, I've decided we need to put your sketches on the walls because this place is empty." Bucky feigns ignorance of the real question. He's been avoiding this discussion because he's not sure how Steve's going to react. He's tried. He's trying. But, it's hard to see himself as Steve sees him when he sees what he was for so long every night.

Walking to the window, he looks out at the city. He's not sure why this is even an issue for anyone but Steve. "Why do they care so much?"

Steve walks behind him. Until a few weeks ago, it would have ended there, but now he puts an arm around Bucky, holding them even closer than before. "Bruce, probably to shut Tony up. Tony, because he doesn't want to admit it, but he's a control freak when he cares about something. As opposed to when he doesn't care, and then everything could fall apart around him and he'd just keep on playing his games. He cares about the Avengers."

He kisses Bucky's neck. "I care that you're happy, and if that's putting the sketches up, then we do that and you take whatever time you need. We also need to cook something, anything. It smells like paint and grout in here. It needs to smell like home. I still don't get why he put that giant screen on the wall." The only reason he knows that it's a television is because he's seen it at Tony's. "I don't watch TV; I still listen to the games on the radio."

"It's big enough we can watch movies at three in the morning and pretend we're at the cinema. I'll bet he's stocked popcorn and candy around somewhere just for that." Bucky grins briefly at the thought. If he had Stark's money, that was what he'd do. Of course, he isn't mentioning why he is likely to be up at three in the morning.

With a soft sigh, he let himself relax against Steve's solid presence behind him. Bucky's right arm rests over the one of Steve's around his waist. The Soldier's instincts are screaming in the back of his mind, telling him they're too exposed just standing there. But, Bucky, ignores it, takes this little bit of domestic normality they're allowed to have. "I'm always going to be out there to have your back whenever I can, you know that, right? Whether I'm officially an Avenger or not. I meant it when I said I can't _not_ try to protect you. I don't think I know how."

Reaching behind him, he pulls Steve's other arm around him, too. "But, I need to do something to make up for what I was made to do. I know." Bucky turns his head and kisses Steve softly to stop the protest he knows is coming. "You're going to say it wasn't my fault and I'm working on believing that. This is something I have to do, though. If I take Fury up on his offer, I have that chance."

"If you work with us, you still have that chance for redemption that I don't think you need," Steve says. This is probably the hardest thing he has to do. He doesn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D., not after the lies and secret weapons. He can't really say that he trusts Clint and Natasha to be loyal to the Avengers, if it came to a choice. He knows he can trust Bruce and Tony, because they distrust S.H.I.E.L.D. even more than he does. He doesn't want Bucky anywhere near it, but he also can't make that decision for him.

"You know where I stand on Fury and his organization, but if that's what you want, then I'll support you." He'll just make sure that Tony keeps an eye on Fury and whatever assignment Bucky gets. He won't let his friend become a pawn again. He's pretty sure Tony keeps an eye on Fury anyway. "I'll just have to stay at home and wait for you to come back from work," he jokes, knowing full well that he'll be spending a lot of time with Jarvis, tracking Bucky through the world.

"Are the Avengers going to track down Soviet sleeper agents?" Bucky asks, turning to face the man that's become so much more than _just_ his best friend. "Because that's what I want to do. The Winter Soldier is the Department's greatest success, but not their only success. I've started to remember things, Steve. Not just the kills that haunt my nightmares. People. People like me. Taken from whatever life they had before and brainwashed, trained, then left in a deep freeze until Mother Russia needed someone else dead. People I helped to train to be killers. If I can, I want to help give them their lives back the way I'm getting a chance at mine. And, I know I may not be able to do that. But, if I can't, at least I know what I'm facing and it won't be some agent without enough clearance to know shit about what's out there getting killed because he's just following orders.

"Can the Avengers do that? Does Stark have the same resources and diplomatic connections as S.H.I.E.L.D.? With the same sort of reach? Because you know how _I_ feel about working for another government in any way, even freelance like this. If you can tell me the Avengers are more than a fighting unit, that you can operate at the same level as an intelligence agency like S.H.I.E.L.D., then I don't need S.H.I.E.L.D. to do this. But, I do need to do this. I'm the only one who _can_ do this, specifically because I _am_ the Winter Soldier."

"Honestly? It's unlikely that we'll worry about this unless I ask them too, unless you want us to, but we have other priorities." He's not going to lie to Bucky about this. "Even if we do, and even if we had the resources, we can't afford to use them for a few people when the fate of the planet hands on the balance." He wishes it weren't so, but the others have other commitments when they aren't saving the world. "I can't commit the rest of them, but I'll help."

He knows that it's not enough. Steve kisses Bucky gently and then sighs. "Finding them won't even be the hard part. We can find them. It's afterwards that we'll have a problem. You need doctors, beds, nurses, gym, therapists. I can't ask Bruce and Tony to do devote their lives to this when they have other things they need to be doing. Even if I did, two men can't provide everything needed." He didn't hesitate when he had to ask them for help for Bucky, but that was the exception. "I'm sorry. I wish I could do this for you."

"Hey, you got nothing to apologize for." Bucky cups Steve's chin in his right hand. "I know you can't do this. I'm not asking you to. I'm just pointing out why, if this is what I need to do -- and it is -- I need to work with Fury on it. I'm not choosing him over you. You get that, right? I'll be working as a covert operative, which is why I can't be publicly known to be alive as James Barnes yet. But, you said yourself it won't be so weird for the Winter Soldier to be watching Captain America's back in the field and I'll be hunting for the few people left who know the Winter Soldier's true identity. In between fighting off alien invasions and mad scientist plots with you, I'll put my own ghosts to rest."

Smirking, he drops his hands to Steve's hips. "And I'll have you to come home to, waiting for your man to finish working," he teases, echoing Steve's jest before staring up at him with a world of promise in his eyes. "I will come home to you, Steve. I'll let Stark put any kind of communication and tracking you want into my arm. We can have our own private check-ins when I'm out there. Whatever it takes, I'm coming home to you. You just make sure Stark knows if he fails to adequately have your back when I'm not there, I will end his existence in the most prolonged and painful way I can imagine."

"I never saw this as a contest, unless you have a thing for the eye patch, in which case, I understand," Steve jokes, before growing serious. 

He doesn't like it, never really was into intelligence. He was the blunt weapon, the one who showed up in bright uniform. He still does. "I understand why you're doing it, and we'll take whatever precautions we need to, but my name and face are out there. Everyone knows who I am, and this tower is a beacon for every crazy person. If you want to deal with the ghosts first, before moving in here with me, then... forget about the Avengers and do what you need to do. I'll help you as much as I can to speed the process up."

Steve cups Bucky's face. This time the kiss is full of worry, support and mostly love. "We'll figure this out," he murmurs. "We'll find a way to do this as safely as possible."

Bucky's grip tightens on Steve's hips, but he uses it to push back instead of pull Steve forward. "What do you mean before moving in here?" Steve has said more than that, but that's where Bucky's brain has gotten stuck. "I've already moved in! Forget about the Avengers? If Natasha and Barton can still do covert ops while living in the clubhouse, I sure as hell can, too!

"I said I can't use my real identity publicly, not that I had to hide or that I can't be seen with you. I get a cover identity, either from S.H.I.E.L.D. or I know some guys. We don't put James Barnes on an account with Steve Rogers. I wear my old mask when fighting with the Avengers. I skip a the more high profile PR events Stark might drag you to." Or he skips being seen at them and finds a way to hide out as extra security. "But, there's no reason I can't stay with you. Unless you're changing your mind about being involved with a spy and assassin?"

"I mean that I don't want you in danger because of me," Steve says, trying to stop whatever argument is starting. "I mean that Natasha and Clint don't live with me, or go out with me, or go shopping with me. I mean that I don't see the point of hiding your identity when it won't take long for your face to be in a newspaper or TV, because that's what happens when people are around me, and especially when you're around Tony. It just happens, and that can't be the reason why you get hurt, when your cover is blown."

He moves closer and puts his arms around Bucky. "I haven't changed my mind about you. I could never do that. You're not a spy and assassin either, but we don't have to go through round hundred and ten about this. What I'm saying is that maybe we should make this a priority. We can use both this apartment and the one in Brooklyn until you're done. I just… eyes and ears on you don't help when you're across the world and someone remembers a pictures they have seen of you. I can't lose you because I'm impatient."

"You're Captain America and I'm the Winter Soldier. We'll always be putting each other in danger as long as we're together. Someone is always going to want one or both of us dead and the other is going to throw themselves into danger's path to stop it because that's what we've been doing since the day I first dragged you out of a back alley fight," Bucky huffs out, before sighing properly and letting his head drop to rest on Steve's shoulder. It's become far too easy to accept Steve's silent support far too quickly. But, he can't help himself.

"How do we make this a priority when it relies on my crazy memories? It's taken me this long just to remember the sleepers exist. How long will it take for names, dates, anything that can actually be used to find them?" He raises his head, eyes locking on Steve's, lower lip caught worriedly between his teeth. "I won't do it. Alright? I'll give Fury the intel as I remember it and let S.H.I.E.L.D. do it. The Winter Soldier can find that redemption in some other way. I'm not going to mess this, us, up for it."

"No, I don't want you to give this up for me." Steve doesn't think Bucky needs redemption, but Bucky does and Steve can't take that from him. "I'm not worried about being in danger. That comes with the job. I'm worried about you doing undercover work, alone, once your picture is on the front cover of the Daily News or the Post."

He smiles. He won't say that Bucky looks adorable when he bites his lip, something that he used to do when they were really young and stopped when they hit their teen years, but he's certainly thinking it. "We can work with Fury. If it's a simple extraction, then we go. If it requires undercover work, we provide support to whatever agent he chooses to send. He still gets the information and the people. You still help them. I still make sure that you're safe. It's a win win."

"There are ways to keep my face out of the press," Bucky points out. But, he's not really arguing anymore. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize things with Steve. It's too new, seems too fragile, even if it's seemingly been years in the making. And, Steve's giving him a way to do what he needs.

"Alright." He nods slowly. "We can try your win-win scenario. But, one of these days, you're going to have to accept that spycraft, infiltration, assassination, that is my skill set now. It's what I'm most trained for after everything. Not that I'm going to go around killing for money. I'm not even doing my usual self-flagellation when I say that I am the Winter Soldier. You never chose Captain America. You simply made what that stupid Senator gave you into something you could be proud of bearing. That's what I'm trying to do, now. Okay? Just without the bright blue tights," he adds with an irreverent grin.

"With everything that's happening, people might just need something traditional," Steve answers, because he understands what Coulson meant now. "Even the bright blue _uniform_ with the stars and stripes."

He knows that things are hardly settled. They'll have to deal with Fury and the rest of the Avengers, and even the world at large. Steve knows that not everyone will be happy. In fact, he's pretty sure that everyone will be slightly unhappy, but that's what compromises are. "If you don't get what you need, we'll change tactics. Not the first time, not the last. As long as we do it together, we'll find a way."

* * *

It's a Friday. There are no aliens or mutants, but AIM makes itself known with some new technology that threatens to compromise all wifi communication. The call comes from Fury himself, so S.H.I.E.L.D. will be footing the bill for the damages this time.

Steve doesn't really understand all the ramifications, but Tony is explaining why they need to stop this and now while they suit up. Tony can talk for a long time, but Steve trusts him enough to stop listening at 'this could have catastrophic consequences'.

He looks at Bucky and smiles, big and bright, because they might be fighting a new battle, but they are doing it together. Bucky smiles back. It's just like old times, except they have a different team with them, now, and they are ready to go.

Steve picks up his shield and there's only one thing left to say. "Avengers assemble!"


End file.
